The Story behind Beauty and the Beast
by leo-lehcarth
Summary: Remember the ever-popular fairytale that generations of Muggle children are familiar with? What if it was more than just a fairytale? Warning: Femmeslash. Fleur/Hermione
1. Chapter 1

_A.N: I'm back! Promotional exams are over, and I have sudden inspiration for this story xD No worries, I am working on new chapters for the other stories too, so I foresee that updates are not very far off! But anyway, I was inspired to write this piece while I was reading Jeanette Winterson's Oranges are Not the Only Fruit, while I was on my way home. I had wanted to complete the story first before I upload it here, but seeing that I was missing from here for so long, I might as well put it up and declare that I am back, haha._

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing except for my fingers. All credit goes to J.K Rowling for coming up with the amazing world of Harry Potter. And also, not forgetting whoever who came up with the original tale of Beauty and the Beast, and its numerous variants and plays.** _

_Warning: Femmeslash_

_Anyway, review and let me know whether I should continue=)_

The Story behind Beauty and The Beast

Generations and generations, and I really mean _generations,_of muggle children have grown up not at all unfamiliar to the fairytale story, Beauty and the Beast.

The beautiful story of how the love of one woman transformed a monstrous beast at its brink of death to a dashing prince, the _magic _of it all, forever remains just as it is, a fairytale to the ignorant world of Muggles.

But for the hidden Wizarding world, they knew much better. For the story, or to be more exact, the history, has been passed down from one generation of wizards to the next. The history behind the story, the origins of it all.

For the beauty was not just any beauty, but a witch.

And the beast? A Veela.

**

_In the year of 1120, in a little-known wizarding town hidden from the rest of the world._

Once upon a time, a long, long time ago, there lived a wealthy merchant with three of his daughters. And not surprisingly, they lived in a mansion in the busy, wealthy part of a wizarding town. They enjoyed a life of luxury and materialism, and it did not come as a wonder that two of his daughters turned out to be spoilt, rich brats; after being waited on hand and foot for their entire life thus far.

The father, being out on trips so very often, he thought that gold and silver and the very best that he could afford was enough to show his love. He never thought that there was more to love than that; he only knew love as wealth. And all the love he could give to his daughters was that. The older daughters did not mind at all; money and beauty was all that mattered to them. The father was just pleased that his daughters handled his frequent absence so well, for that meant to his shallow, materialistic mind that he was doing the _right thing._

The youngest however, was different. And she was also the worse of his worries. She never seemed to be happy, no matter how much gold and silver he showered upon her. No amount of jewelry nor the finest of robes could bring a smile to her face. Not since her mother disappeared.

Hermione remembered a conversation that she once had with her father, while she was still young and ignorant.

"_Father, what happened to Mother? Where is she?"_

_Draco smoothed his mustache with one hand, the other folded across his gold studded robes, thinking hard over how to bring across the story to the young child. Hermione continued to tug at the sleeve of his robe persistently and impatiently, a frown intruding upon her innocent, delicate features. Finally, he heaved a sigh, and with one warm, large hand softly upon his daughter's head, he began. _

"_Child, your mother was a brilliant witch of her age." Draco patted her head. "She was clever and beautiful...__Alas, it was sad that she perish'd young."_

_Hermione understood, despite her young age. Her eyes widened and began to tear. "Mother is...dead?"_

_Draco nodded, his head heavy as though it was made of lead. He continued, his voice low, cracking painfully occasionally. _

_"The old castle in the forest, you know? The one that Father always tell you never to go near? The devil of a king kill'd her, he did." __Draco paused for a moment. Hermione slowly glanced up into her father's face. _

_His eyes were red. _

"_They are evil, pure evil, them who lives in the horrid castle. They turn into horrible creatures, real horrible when they are angry, and feed on many a man. Your brave mother tried to stop them horrid creatures one day when she could took it no more. You were still very young. But she went…and she n'ver came back."'_

_Hermione was furious, furious and upset. Her mother was dead, probably eaten up by one of "them horrid creatures". __She wanted to avenge her mother, she wanted revenge. But she did not say anything, did not breathed a single word. _

_Her hands were clenched tightly in front of her best white dress robes, the one with lace trimmings. Draco looked down upon his youngest child. He was aware of how the young girl was feeling; he could feel the strong emotions radiating off her. Draco never could really understand her, no matter how hard he tried. Or so, he told himself that he had tried. She was the brightest, without a doubt, but there was something about her, something that Draco could never understand, in the little time that he gets to spend with her. Well, whatever little time he have at home would be spent with her, seeing that his other daughters were seldom at home. _

_Hermione was different; she never cared for money and riches, never played with other children, never laughed, never smiled. _

Hermione never stopped hating the "horrid creatures" that killed her mother. Which was why she studied magic so hard; well, at least partly why. Aside from being her interest, magic was also, in her opinion, the only way of defeating the creatures to avenge her mother's death. Her sisters had laughed at her innumerable times for working so hard, learning so fervently, but she never stopped.

They never could understand why. And she never bothered to explain. Her sisters were happy as long as they have their pretty dress robes and shimmery jewelry. Being the youngest child, and also the cleverest, there always exist barriers between her and her older sisters. They never could get along. Well, they had never even _got along _with each other.

Her older sisters, named Pansy and Lavender, were always off frolicking into town to mix with the sons and daughters of the rich, shunning the poor. Pansy was the oldest, and the worst. Lavender was no better, being under Pansy's influence.

Hermione, on the other hand, never liked to mix with them. She found them to be haughty and shallow, superficial and irksome, and would rather spend her time alone in her room practicing her wand-work and perfecting her spells. Her sisters always thought her to be strange and weird; her sisters who had never seen the importance of knowledge and learning, not when they have oodles and oodles of money on their hands.

Money to them equates fun, and fun? It equates life.

That was all in the past. The past, when she still could see Draco and spend time with him, when she was still a young, ignorant child. Now, at the marriageable age, Hermione have not changed. She was still introverted and kept to herself, but she has grown to become a fine young woman and a marvelous spell-caster, living up to her mother's reputation. Though few people have seen her, saved for the servants, it wasn't a secret to the townsfolk that Draco's youngest child was a living, breathing goddess.

Nothing has changed; Hermione have not changed, but circumstances did.

Draco was dealt a huge blow, so huge that he had to collapse into the chair, when his servant brought news that his entire fleet was destroyed in a storm. Everything started to collapse all around him; his fortune was gone, his gold, his silver, his riches… Everything was lost…

And that very day, life turned for the worse for the family. Pansy and Lavender became grouchy and bad-tempered, and could be heard everyday squabbling and quarreling. The servants, after learning of Draco's loss of fortune, left one after another. In the end, the family was forced out of their mansion, forced to live in a small farmhouse at the very edge of the woods. Hermione remained constant despite all the changes, and kept to her spell-books as usual.

Then one day, Draco rapped lightly on the old wooden door leading to Hermione's room.

"Child, is it al'right if Father enter?"

"Yes Father."

Draco silently opened the door and entered. Hermione was sitting at her desk with yet another old spell-book; a candle burning low at her side. A cold draft came through the poorly-boarded window, threatening to snuff the weak flame out.

Hermione turned around to face her father, her hair pulled back with a piece of string, clothes well-worn. Yet, her radiance still shone through her plain attire.

Draco sat down on the thin mattress of the bed; a simple rack made of old planks which creaked its disapproval. His face, aged and weary, shone with hope that Hermione have never seen for a long time

"My child, I was brought good news! One of the trading ships that Father sent out long time ago surviv'd the storm, or so I was told. Come sunrise, Father would be heading down to the port to see if there is anything of value left. Perhaps we may find ourselves to still be of worth of a few hundreds of gold! My dear child, do you desire anything? I've promised your sisters jewelry and fine robes as they have requested. And dear Hermione, what would you like? How 'bt a fine new robe for a fine young lady?"

Hermione paused for a moment, looking into her father's shining face.

"I desire nothing extravagant, dear Father. I yearn for nothing, except for a simple, red rose. I have read about them, and it would be nice if I could have one, a rose pure and simple."

Draco, though slightly taken aback at his youngest child's simple request, promised nevertheless. And then came sunrise, and Draco trekked off towards the port in high hopes of the return of his riches.


	2. Chapter 2

_A.N: Second chapter! Thanks to all who reviewed! Really appreciate the comments and the guidances; keep them coming! :) Hope this chapter is enough to show my gratitude! Haha xD_

_Keep the reviews coming!_

**Chapter 2**

_Hermione's POV_

The sun was going down. Again. Down, down, down. Inching its way to its secret hiding place. Behind the dark, gloomy stretch of trees and the creepy castle. Somewhere. And it was taking its warmth with it.

Another day would soon be gone. And a cold, gloomy night was to come; once again.

I pushed the thick volume of spells nearer to the base of the window, trying to catch and make full use of what little crimson light that still came through. First thing came sunrise that I have done was to throw open the thatched and poorly-boarded wooden plank of the window, and settled down to my reading, tapping my vinewood wand on the creaky wooden desk as I read. Routine. Just like what I do everyday. Just like breathing. And the constant tapping of my wand.

_Tap, tap, tap._

I shifted lightly in my chair, a rickety, simple one made of a leftover planks and a bit of a rotten tree trunk. The planks shifted and grinded against eash other, elliciting a low, painful, drawn out -_creak...- _

-which was nothing new_._ Everything in the room was capable of the horrid noise. The floorboards, the bed, the desk, _everything. _And it was the same for everything else in the house, including the house itself. It was quite interesting; the creaking made the house seem...alive. It was as if the house was talking and communicating through its creaking, which could get pretty loud and irritating...and _scary, _especially in the night.

But not as irritating as the squabbles that I got to hear every single day. Without fail. Truth be told, I would choose the creaking over the screeching of my…_sisters _anytime. Honestly, they could get even noisier than the banshees living at the northern side of town. I knew the racket the banshees were capable of causing as clear as day; Father brought me to that side of town once when I was little. They scared me so much that I jumped at the least bit of noise for a few months following that experience.

_Tap, tap…_

The words and symbols on the age-old volume drew my eyes along, and I continued tapping and twirling the wand as I take them in, line after line, absorbing them all in like a dry sponge. And with every few taps it was getting increasingly harder to read; the sunlight was fading into darkness. Soon, it would be totally dark outside. I never liked the night, with its eerie calls of unknown creatures and the gloomy unpredictable darkness. And the cold; it never fail to seep right into my bones, and somehow always made me feel very..._alone._

The darkened spot on the table grew bigger as I gave a particularly nasty tap and stood up with a sigh. Red sparks flew out from the tip of the stick and fizzled onto the table and into nothingness. Carefully, I pulled the planks inward to shut the window. I could have just muttered an incantation, but the rain- and wind-weathered boards were too fragile, and rotten, to be able to withstand the spell. I have tried it once before, and the results were pretty nasty. Father had to spend three sunsets and sunrises fixing the boards. Not that it became any much better than it was before. Father was not exactly very _skilled_ in carpentry and wood-work.

Before shutting the window, which was really just a hole in the wall with a piece of board (_heavily _patched) that could be lifted up and down to open and close it, I took in one last glance. All I could see from here was a dark, gloomy forest; and in the distance, a sharp peak against the crimson sky, obviously from a castle. And hopefully, somewhere to the east of the castle, Father would be on his way back from the port before the darkest hour in the night. Maybe he would wait until the morning before heading back; I don't know. Nothing really mattered to me, just as long as he return home safely.

The room darkened considerably after I closed the window, with only the most minimal amount of light creeping through the gaps that had intruded the wooden walls and window. But I had grown used to it (though I never liked it) after spending two years in this farmhouse. It was nothing extravagant, just enough for us to be sheltered from the sun, the wind and the rain. Water-repelling charms helped to prevent leaks in the roof; that was the best that I could do. There was nothing else that could be done to patch up the old, wooden house. Nothing else that magic could do to, anyway; or at least nothing else that would be without risks. The house was in too bad a shape to withstand the use of excessive magic. I don't know what defined _excessive _though; I did not want to find out either.

I picked up the wand again, and my hand warmed considerably as I gathered comfort from the familiar weight. Lighting up the old candle that stood lonely in its stand, I returned to my reading.

"HER-MIO-NEEEEE!"

Pansy.

And Lavender.

I pulled my gaze away from the words in the flickering light and allowed it to settle upon my two elder sisters, whose shadows were casted against the wall behind them imposingly, swaying and moving with ghastly results. I ignored their shadowy ghosts and trained my eyes on them instead. They were wearing their best, or what was once their best, dress robes. Obviously just back from town. They never stopped going there; well, that was the only place where they could go, except for this dingy little hut.

"Hermione, you wouldn't believe what Elder Sister and I just heard!" Lavender blurted out, unable to contain her excitement.

"And what is it that excites you so, Second Sister?" Normally I would not have bothered with the two of them; it was not like we conversed often. But today was different. Perhaps I was feeling a bit more compassionate than usual.

Did Father just return with some of his long, lost fortune?

I caught Pansy shooting a glare at Lavender, who fell mute all of a sudden.

"Oh nothing much, we just heard of some gossip while out in town," Pansy drawled out lazily, trying to appear nonchalant. Which was clearly not working; the side of her mouth was twitching. That could not mean anything good...

"And what was it, Elder Sister? Pray not keep me in the dark, my dear sister," I tried my best to keep my tone polite and steady, resisting the urge to get her to go straight to the point. Lavender seemed to be struggling with herself too, fighting an incontrollable urge to say something. But fearful glances at Pansy clearly showed the reason why she was restraining herself. I never knew why she was afraid of Pansy, just because Pansy was the eldest. It was not as if Pansy was any cleverer than she was.

"Just some gossip down at the inn," Pansy continued in that irksome tone of hers. It made me want to spell her mouth close; but I was mildly interested in whatever news that she had brought. "Just some lad who seems to be drawn by you; a boy from the village. Goes by the name Ronald, I believe-"

So that was it. A boy. So much for my mild interest. My dear sisters went on bickering, seemingly more into the topic than I was. So much so that I could not even be bothered to try and cut in. It was not as if their silly squabbles could be easily stopped. Though I do have to admit, they were a noisy distraction. An unwelcomed one too.

"Not just some lad! His father is the chief of the village next to our town-"

"Who said you could interrupt me?" Pansy glared at Lavender, who backed off silently, looking very much apologetic and fearful. "He's just a lad; I said he is, and so he IS."

"…you are just jealous of Hermione…" Lavender mumble almost incoherently; I could barely even catch it. But alas, Pansy, whose sharp ears were tuned for gossip caught it. She frowned and spat.

"Why should I be jealous of her? I desire _men, _not _boys _nor _lads. Men _with riches and looks. What would I want with a scrawny boy like him? I would rather go for the mayor's eldest son."

Pansy then huffed and turned her nose up, marching out through the doorway, and leaving Lavender in my room. I wished she would just get out too so I could focused on the text. I thought that perhaps if I wished hard enough, she would. I returned to the text and ignored Lavender, hoping and wishing that she would get the point and get lost.

A hoarse creaking told me that sadly, she did not get my point. Much to my immense disappointment.

"Um...Hermione?"

I could not even be bothered to feign surprise. "Oh Sister, you are still here? I thought you left the room with Elder Sister," I threw the words over my shoulder as nonchalantly as I could, hoping that she would just get the hint. I just want to be left alone with my books.

"Ah, well, no," Lavender replied quite hesitantly and rather softly. I don't understand why she was so afraid of Pansy. There certainly wasn't a need for her to tag after Pansy and follow her around all the time. It was not as if she was not allowed to live her own life or make her own decisions. Or maybe she was already doing that. It was just that she had…made the decision to follow _Pansy's decisions._ All of which mainly comprised of looking good, flirting and partying with the rich. Not exactly my cup of tea.

She flicked her braided hair nervously, obviously having something on her mind. Something on her mind that she seemed to want to tell me; but then again, it was also something that she was not sure whether she should let me know.

Well, suit herself.

There was never much stuff coming out from her mouth that could interest me in any way. Not unless it concerned Mother… or Father.

"Um…well, I just thought that there is something that I should let you know-"

"Yes, Sister?"

She took a deep breath, startled when I had cut right into her words. I never liked people beating around the bush anyway.

"Remember what Big Sister said just now? About that man-um…_lad, _who likes you?"

"Yes…?"

"Well, there was more to that actually; we overheard him talking to his buddy. Something that concerns you…" She hesitated.

"What?"

"He's coming over tomorrow to ask for your hand."

**

"Erm, _good morning!" _

I cringed upon hearing the shrill voice issuing from the main door, and curled myself into a tighter ball on top of my creaky bed, praying hard that the person was not-

"I am Ronald, Ronald Weasley."

Damn the walls. Damn the thin, wooden, creaky walls that were not noise-proofed.

I tried to block out Pansy's drawling voice and the squeaky, nervous one of the lad, or boy, or _whatever_, but I failed miserably. I could almost picture how he look like from the sound of his voice; scrawny, weak and awkward-looking. Not that I cared much about his looks; I don't even want to see what he look like. I don't want any men, lad, boys, _whatever. _Pansy could take him, for all I cared. I just wanted to be left alone.

"Yes, I'm the chief's son. Erm...is Her-Hermione in?"

That must be the first time I was fully supportive of what Pansy would say. I prayed hard under my breath with my eyes screwed tightly shut as Pansy drawled, "No, she's not-"

"Out! She's not out! I'll get her for you!"

I felt like cursing Lavender to the other side of town. Very much. I could just imagine Pansy's scowl, and I was sure that it would be pretty much a smile as compared to the expression on my own face.

I fought hard not to reach for my wand to curse my stupid sister into oblivion just as she skipped through the doorway. My hands were trembling from the effort, and she noticed too.

"Hermione! He's HERE!" Ouch, my ears. Wand, wand... It was lying temptingly on the desk. I only need to just stretch for it and I would be able to-

"Get out of bed and put on your best dress robes! Quick!"

My near-hysterical sister tugged hard at the thin covers and yanked them cleanly off me, together with my patience, not hearing any word of my protest. Annoyed, I stomped out of the room.

"Wait! You should change!"

Like I gave a damn.


	3. Chapter 3

_A.N: An update! Once again, thanks to those who reviewed. =) Hope you guys enjoy this chapter! More reviews too please! I'm open to suggestions and ideas to further develop the characters and story too =)_

_AthenaNoel- I'm glad you like her. I'll try to go more into the depth of her character, though she's still pretty much the same as in the books xD  
champion- Thank you! I personally love Beauty and the Beast too!_

**Chapter 3**

"Ah- Mah…er…" Ronald Weasley cleared his throat shakily and opened his mouth once again. "Gah-"

Hermione stood at the door, dressed in the dull, unappealing black robes that she went to sleep in the day before and a not-so-amused look on her face. Her arms were folded tightly in front of her chest, which was, for your information, nicely developed for a girl her age. Her hair was wavy, bordering bushy, having just woken up from her sleep; reason apparent. A few creases safely camouflaged themselves in the well-worn yet expensive material of her robes. However, the radiance of the brunette didn't fail to render the red-haired man at the doorway speechless. Or at least incapable of an intelligible response.

"-I'm..gah." The man's face steadily reddened to the point whereby it was hard to distinguish it from his hair. It was an amusing sight to behold; a stuttering, tongue-tied young man fiddling away incessantly with the arm sleeves of his long maroon robes. Not to Hermione though. She noticed a shorter, dark-haired man standing behind the stuttering fool, who smiled at her politely before elbowing his friend in the ribs. The 'buddy' that Lavender mentioned. Ronald gave a small jerk and cleared his throat nervously, eyes darting from the ground to Hermione's face, then back to the ground again.

"Yes?"

"Um…Ah…" Ronald averted his eyes to Pansy and Lavender, who were standing a little behind the youngest lady. Pansy put on a look of cool aloofness, pretending to be uninterested in their exchange (not that there was much of one). Lavender was standing behind her elder sister, peering over Pansy's shoulders curiously.

Hermione followed his gaze and narrowed her eyes. "Dear sisters, would it be all right if the two of you kindly leave us alone for a moment please?"

Her gaze was met by Pansy's nonchalant one and a disappointed one from Lavender. Pansy whipped around on her heels and marched off towards the rooms, her sweeping dress robes throwing up a mist of dust while she turned. Lavender glanced after Pansy, and then back at Hermione's resolved face with a pout before picking up her long robes and skipped off after her elder sister.

Hermione made sure that Lavender disappeared from sight before turning back to the nervous young man. He was tall, about a foot and a half taller than her. But he was skinny too, lanky and awkward-looking; just like what Hermione pictured upon hearing his voice. His shoulders sagged with a slight hunch as though he was trying to make himself seem less out-standing, not that it was effective in any sense. His friend, who was only slightly taller than Hermione herself, patted him hard on the shoulders encouragingly. Ronald swallowed hard with a gulp and cleared his throat.

"Good um…morning. I-I'm Ronald-Ronald Weasley and this is H-Harry Potter, my friend." Harry gave a polite nod with a smile that made his clear green eyes twinkle. "I-I was wondering if you, y'know, wanna erm…Do you want to go down to the town together someday?"

Hermione glanced away. "No, I'm sorry."

Ronald looked like he just took a club to the head, looking like a deer in the headlights. He grunted (or was it squeaked?) a 'sorry' and the next moment, he turned tail and scampered off, leaving Hermione and Harry staring after him.

"Ron!" Harry shouted after him exasperatedly; but the red-head was too far away to hear. Even if he heard, Hermione doubt that he would turn back anyway. She brought her attention back to the man still standing in front of her, who was shaking his head at Ronald.

"He's your friend, good man?"

Harry turned back to Hermione with a sheepish grin upon his face. "You can call me Harry," another smile. "Yea, I'm sorry. He is a pretty shy person in front of girls, especially one that he _likes." _

Harry raised his eyebrow, a pretty thick one. Even so, he was rather good-looking; make up for his lack of height, Hermione supposed. Strong jaw-line, beautiful and sincere green eyes, but Hermione wasn't interested in either of them. In fact, she was never interested in any of the males in town (or outside town, for that matter) at all. There was nothing in them that she found even vaguely appealing or mesmerizing about; they all seemed to be a rowdy, egoistical bunch and she would rather not know them at all.

"You know, I should probably go after him," a jerk of his head towards that direction which Ronald had scampered off to, "lest he do something without thinking."

"Yes, you should." Hermione could only imagine what kind of acts the thick boy would pull up in his moment of…hysterics. Harry nodded, politely bade farewell and then jogged off after his friend. Hermione stood at the doorway and watched him fade off into the distance, before retreating into the house, slamming the door shut.

Good riddance.

* * *

On the other side of the forest, Draco was trekking back in the direction of home with heavy heart and steps. It was a trip in naught; everything of value on the ship that survived the storm was seized to pay off the huge amount of debts accumulated, and he was essentially left with nothing. The shock and disappointment from that was enough to weaken him considerably, and he spent the night at the port dreaming of his lost wealth, before starting on his journey towards home when the sun rose.

Trekking in a disoriented state of mind was never a good idea though. Stumbling through the woods, Draco somehow strayed from the main path and suddenly found himself in the middle of eerie, shocking green wilderness. The vegetation was dense, especially so at the canopy level, that only the bare minimum of light found its way through as a reminder that it was still day time. There was only the slightest bit of breeze, which brought along with it the penetrating smell of the forest.

Of course, at that point in time, Draco found himself panicking and increasing desperation made him even clumsier as he combat the ranks of vegetation that stood in his way. His breathing was shallow and came in quick huffs and gasps, his long, blond ponytail decorated with twigs and leaves of all sorts, his robes ripped and muddied.

An awkwardly-grown root managed to trip him up and sent him sprawling onto a sloping downhill, where inertia took over. Draco shouted in fear and pain as he rolled down the slope, somehow managing to escape the brutal trunks of the trees.

"OW!"

Only to be smacked head-first into a solid wall. Wait a minute; _solid wall_?

Draco shakily got to his feet after recovering from the shock. His long, blonde hair came out of the ponytail during his little ride of fear downhill, and he was obviously in a much worse state than before. Moving gingerly, he confirmed the worse of his injuries; which was no more than a bruising at the hip, aside from the few minor scratches.

After quick self-inspection, Draco turned to face the wall that he had smacked into.

"Ergh, moss."

Upon closer inspection of the surface, he realized that it was indeed a solid, old stone wall; the curtain wall of a castle. _Castle… _The beasts' castle!

Fueled by curiosity and rage, as well as the fact that there was nowhere else to go except forward, Draco decided to snoop around. Wincing slightly, he limped around the walls until he came to a tall, towering wrought-iron gate. There was no other way through.

Exasperated, Draco tried to open the gate. The moment his bare hands touched the cold metal, it melted away from sight. Magic. The family of beasts knew magic. And the magical gate recognized people of magical blood, however weak they were in that realm of the art. Draco's prowess in the magical arts was nothing to be proud of; his youngest daughter _far_ surpassed his ability in that area.

Draco limped cautiously into the castle grounds, passing a garden obviously uncared for as he steadily and stealthily approached the flanking wooden doors. It was only then he realized the loud, booming _silence _in that part of the forest. There was not cricking of the insects, neither the chirping of birds. Nothing but pure, undiluted silence.

The doors responded the same way as the gate the moment Draco's hands came in contact with it. What greeted him was a huge entrance hall elaborately furnished, lit with the flame of candles. However, no one was in sight. But he could not let his guard down. This was the home of those who had killed his wife.

He moved with silent steps and entered what seemed to be the dining room. The sight of it made Draco's jaw dropped open in awe. It was as though someone was expecting him; there was an elaborated meal for two all spread out on the table. Draco had never feasted his eyes or his stomach on such a sight ever since he lost his fortune in that storm. A slight rumbling in his stomach told him what he should do, but his instincts told him otherwise. Nevertheless, it didn't deter him from approaching the table.

Nothing happened when he slid himself into the seat at the end of the table; the food still beckoned temptingly to him amidst the flickering candlelight. Not having eaten anything for about a day and a half, as well as all the endless trekking has made Draco one famished man.

With care, Draco took a portion of chicken which happened to be nearest to him. The smell wafted towards him and was almost a drug to him in his famished state. A sniff told him that there was nothing in the chicken that should not be there, and that was the cue for Draco to start his assault on the dishes.

It did not take long for Draco to satisfy his hunger, and it certainly did not take any longer for him to grow suspicious of the inhabitants' motives. He mentally smacked himself for letting his guard down with the food, trying to make himself feel better by using the excuse that he was far too hungry.

Another surprising thing was that; there was not a single soul in sight, not when he first entered till now. Sure, there were plenty of rumors regarding this castle in town and in the neighboring villages, and everyone was smart enough to stay away from it. Whoever started the rumors, now that Draco was here, have reasons that were certainly understandable only to him or herself. Save for the fact that his wife had perished in a confrontation with the beasts that lived in this castle there was nothing else to vouch for the evil in the castle as propagated by the rumors.

Somehow, Draco managed to find his way into a small garden within the walls of the castle that was in a surprisingly good state. Lush green plants and beautiful flowers flourished in this well-hidden garden that was clearly well-tended to, in comparison to the garden beyond the doors yet within the gates. However, there was still no signs of life save for the vegetation. No birds, no insects, no sounds.

But Draco brushed all of that strangeness aside. He suddenly recalled Hermione's wish for a rose; a red rose. He could not fulfill the wishes of his two older daughters, for he did not have the means to do so. But as for his youngest, there was a high chance that she would not be disappointed. The garden was filled with a wide variety of flowers; it was the only part of the old castle that bore some life to it, after all.

He then set to work, determined to source out a rose, the finest one for his daughter. He was so keen on the idea that he failed to notice the figure standing in the shadows of the doorway.

A rose so apart from the ordinary caught Draco's attention. It was perfect. The petals were of a lush red hue, with the edges lined with a golden tint. It grew strong and tall, standing out from all else in the rose bush. Even its thorns bore golden tips. The rose was one of unrivalled beauty, and Draco did not even hesitate a moment. Careful not to prick himself with the lethal-looking thorns, he snapped the rose off its stalk.

And that, was the last straw.

Before Draco could have even the faintest idea on what was going on, he heard a screech as something flew straight at him, leaving him no time to respond. He was pushed off his feet and landed on a bush, and the rose flew out of his grasp, lying abandoned on the grass. Groggily, he slid off the bush and staggered to his feet.

A…creature, a fearsome, furious creature stood next to the gold-tinted red rose. It bent down to retrieve the rose with gentle care, which was surprising for a creature with its looks. Its penetrating red eyes were narrowed in fury at the shabby man, and Draco felt his knees growing weak under the glare of the beastly creature.

He could not even begin to describe the beast. For starters, it was clearly a female, with inhuman strength to be able to throw him over a distant. She looked like a failed hybrid experiment, a horrid cross between some bird and a human, though any humane resemblance was rather minimal. Her large, leathery yet silver-feathered wings had ripped through the robe-like garment she had on, and they were spread in anger to intimidate. Her silvery-blonde hair grew long and seemed to gradually morph into the silver feathers on her arms and hands, which ended in talons for nails. She was wearing male pants which ended just a little over the knees, exposing her feathered legs, though her feet were that of a human's. The feature that drew her closest to human resemblance was probably her face that was only slightly lined with soft silver fur, save for her eyes.

"I've let you into my castle. Offered you food and drink. And you repay the favor by taking my MOST PRECIOUS POSSESSION?" Her voice was rough and full of spite. Draco grimaced and fell to his knees in the face of her fury.

"Pl-please, please! I didn't know! Forgive my ignorance please, d-don't kill me!"

"I very well should, but I don't kill." Red eyes narrowed.

"Th-thank you, thank you, thank you-"

"But I didn't say that I will let you go, did I?"

"N-no no, please! I will do anyt'ing, anyt'ing!"

"Including being my prisoner?"

"Ye- I mean no! N-no no! I have a family to look after! My daughters need me! I only pick'd your rose because me youngest daughter want'd it!"

"Really?"

"Yes, yes m'am!"

"Then I guess your daughter should be my prisoner, _non_?"

"Ye-yes! I mean, NO!"

The female beast moved closer to Draco, one hand still clutching the rose dearly as she bent down low beside him. She stroke one long talon down the side of his cheek and leaned in close to rasp in his ear questioningly, voice dripping with warning. "No?"

Draco shivered slightly at the feel of her sharp nails upon his face. "Yes, I mean y-yes-"

"Good," she straightened up, glaring down at him. "You will do as I say."

"I-I will do as you say?" A glare. Draco stuttered. " Y-yes yes, I will d-do as…as…as y-you s-say."

"I will let you go, but only on one condition."

"Which is?"

"You are to go back to your shabby home and send your daughter to me. She will be my prisoner in your place. And you are to tell- Absolutely. No. One. If anyone outside your family hears a word about this, you'll see what I can do to you and your family."

"Y-yes m'am-"

"Now get out of my sight and out of my castle. I want to see your daughter here three days later at sunset. Now get out."

Draco scrabbled at the grass and almost trip as he scuttled off in a hurry. The gate materialized back behind him the moment he got out of the curtain walls. Throwing one last fearful glance back at the ominous castle, he scurried off, anxious to put distance between him and the fearful bird-woman.

It didn't take long, surprisingly, for him to stumble upon the main path. He went as fast as his weak legs could carry him, occasionally throwing fearful glances over his shoulder as he fought his way through the undergrowth in the direction of home. Fear has done him well; tuning his instincts in the right way as he scurried to reach home before the fall of night. All else was forgotten; his broken promises, his lost fortune, his bruised hip. But not the promise he made to the beast.

Meanwhile, back at the old weathered castle of stone, the bird-woman sighed. She folded her leathery/feathery wings down and the fiery red hue from her eyes faded, leaving a cold, icy blue filled with pain. She held the rose close to her with her talons, the long, disgusting claws that she so detested. She glanced out of a window in the stone wall at the steadily darkening sky before moving up to her bedroom with heavy, yet gracious steps. In there, she picked up a rosewood wand from an antique bedside table and conjured up a vase and an air-regulated bell jar. After making sure that the rose was well-protected, she collapsed on the luxurious bed in exhaustion.

Someday, someday, she would be free. Free from this curse.


	4. Chapter 4

_A.N: New chapter! Sorry for taking so long, and a big thank you to all who reviewed:) I'm really busy, trying to complete my homework before term starts. A rather challenging task, may I add. Sigh. Review and make me happy please! xD_

**Chapter 4**

It was about five in the afternoon, but the sky was dark with heavy clouds that looked as though they could burst into a downpour any moment. A gale was blowing strongly. Leaves rustled their angry protest; twigs and branches relentlessly assaulted the wooden hut with whacks and slaps. The wooden hut groaned and creaked under the anger of nature, but nothing could distract the focused brunette seated by the window.

Hermione had the window opened just enough for whatever light that still shone through the clouds to aid her in her reading. She looked so intensely focused on the tattered and well-worn out volume that she was lightly running her digits over that it seemed as though she was in a trance. Even the gusts of wind that managed to blow through cracks and gaps in the walls could not blow away the hard look that she wore on her face.

However, appearances could only remain just as that. Appearances. For deep down, Hermione was not focused on the text that sat in front of her. She was too busy worrying incessantly for her father.

It had been two sunsets since Draco left for the port. Three; if he doesn't make it back this sunset. And throughout the two days, save for the intrusion of the two men, there has never been a single moment when she did not worry for her father's safety. She could not even get a good night's sleep ever since her father left for his riches. Yes, she was happy that he has found hope. But she knew that it would not be an easy trip for him. What if it was just a false alarm?

Everyone knew that the woods was a hostile place, especially so in the darkness of the night. The woods housed the castle of the beasts, as well as many wild, ferocious creatures, magical and non-magical. Just straying off the main path at night could bring about disastrous consequences. Draco would not be able to handle the creatures if he was unlucky and chance upon them; he himself had sworn off magic after Hermione's mother never came back from her confrontation with the beastly creatures. It was only after much pleading from Hermione did he allowed her to continue learning magic for he loved the child too much to deny her what she live and breathe for. He himself was never a master in the art in the first place, anyway; but at least, with rudimentary skills, there was still a chance of survival for him. But seeing that he has snapped his wand in a moment of pique and sorrow some years back…

A loud creak from the main door sounded above nature's brawl and managed to break through her reverie. Hermione let out a sigh of relief and smiled to herself, rising from her seat. Her father must be back. The excited screeches of Pansy and Lavender further confirmed her guess; Draco was back from his trip to the port.

"Father! You are back!"

"Father! How is it? What have you gotten for us?"

Hermione was about to put her book down and welcome her father proper; but decided otherwise upon hearing her sisters' bugging, unwilling to put her father in a spot, as well as unwilling to be around her sisters. She shook her head at her sisters' bluntness, sat back down and resumed her reading. She was in no position to tell them off, however much she wanted to; given her status as the youngest. The only thing she could do was to stay in her room and not make the situation any difficult for her father. Perhaps one day they would realize that wealth and beauty was not everything.

However, the silence was not what she had expected from her father or her sisters either. There was no noise coming from the entranceway save for the racket of nature against the brawl of an incoming storm. A pause took over, amplifying the voices of nature. A long, pregnant pause. Her sisters probably went speechless upon receiving their presents that they couldn't even thank Draco properly.

But the next thing that happened told her that wasn't the case. The shrill voices of the two girls were mixed with the tired, painful one of her father, rising high above the racket of the storm. Not surprisingly, Hermione was shocked. And the next thing she knew, she heard the sounds of angry steps running past her door. It was definitely her two older sisters, without a doubt.

Something was definitely wrong. Her father…

Hermione sensed her father standing at the door to her room, the deep, shaky breaths that he was taking effectively giving him away. Upon turning around, the sight that met her eyes was heart-wrenching.

Draco was a total mess; a wreck. Twigs stuck out from all over his head of filthy blonde, unruly and unkempt hair; his robes were torn and muddied, his face one of extreme sorrow. She has never seen her father in such a sorry state before, and even though her father had never gave her the kind of attention and love that she always desired, she still felt a strong sense of sympathy for him. Rising from her chair, she ran over to the disheveled man, who looked as though he had aged ten over years, and hugged him tightly.

"Child…"

"Father, I'm glad that you are back." Her words were muffled into his shoulder. Draco felt a painful ache in his heart when her voice vibrated against him.

Placing callused hands upon the girl's shoulders, he moved her body away from his, ashamed. He felt that he did not deserve the child's affections, after what happened in the forest, after what he promised the Beast. The dreadful and unforgivable promise he made. But of course, Hermione was still oblivious to that.

"It's all right, Father; I don't need the rose anyway. Now that you have returned safely, I'm contented."

Draco swallowed a choke, his body shaking ever so slightly without his control. Hermione's mention of the rose brought back the promise he made; the inhumane promise to make his daughter, his _beloved _daughter a prisoner of the Beast's for _life. _How was he supposed to break the news to her?

Hermione took in the sight of her defeated father with sadness and pain in her heart. He refused to look her in the eye, turning away when she tried to make him do so. It hurt her to see her father like that. Even though he had never given her the affection and attention that she had always wanted, he was still her father. He brought her up single-handedly after her mother's disappearance. For a man to do that, it was definitely not an easy task. And Hermione knew that. Even if the emotional attachment to Draco was not that deep, the gratitude and respect she held for him were tremendous.

"Father…" Hermione tightened her hands around his wrists, pleading him to look at her. "Father, it's all right. Please, don't take whatever my elder sisters have said to heart. They do not mean it. Despite their harsh words, they still love you dearly, as much as I do, please know that."

Draco trembled, and it was taking him a lot not to cry. His daughter's gentle voice was a hot knife that ripped and slashed at his heart. Guilt was already a heavy burden that he was bearing at that moment, and seeing her amplified the horrible emotion. He would give anything, anything to forget about the promise, to go back in time. He would not have entered the castle, not have picked the rose, not have incurred the Beast's wrath if he knew that things were going to turn out that way. But no, he couldn't do that. There was nothing he could do. If only he could invent a spell or perhaps, some _hourglass_ to bring people back into the past…But with his limited spell-casting ability, and the oath he made to himself…

A loud smack was heard when Draco clapped his palms onto his face in anger and sorrow, and Hermione was caught off-guard. Everything happened so fast; she never expected her father to do that, to wrench his wrists out of her grip. The young girl was stunned, and quite upset. She had never seen him behaving like that before, so defeated and resigned, and his strange behavior was scaring her.

Try as he might, he could not hold back any longer. He held back his sorrow when his wife disappeared (or died), building up a mental dam and locking up his emotions so that he could stay strong for his daughters. He held back his sorrow when he lost his fortune, believing and furiously grasping on to that small shred of hope that opportunity would come and pull him out of poverty. He held back his sorrow when he realized that no, that opportunity did not come in the form of the vessel that survived the storm. He was never the type of man who is comfortable with displaying their emotions in front of others; viewing it as a show of weaknesses. His pride and ego never allowed him to do so.

But in front of his daughter…his dear Hermione, the only daughter who bore uncanny alikeness to his wife out of the three…He did not have the strength to keep the barrier up. No more. The guilt was too strong, too thick, too heavy. The waves of guilt crashed and rage and smashed and roared unyieldingly against his weakening barriers. And Hermione's slender, smooth hand on his wrist…That was the last straw.

Spasms wracked through the man's body as he convulsed with the chokes and sobs, muffled by his coarse hands. It upsets the young girl to see her father in such a state. Hermione understood that losing everything, his whole fortune, was a huge blow to her father; the scene in front of her was enough. And what with her elder sisters' rejection and anger…

"Father…"

Hermione's hands were soft on Draco's scratched arms, but her face was frozen into one of sadness and pity. Her eyes though, were rock-hard. She seldom cried, never now, ever since she was a child; even then she shed little tears. It was the only trait of Draco that she had inherited- her stoic stubbornness. Or perhaps, it was just the way that she was brought up; having grew up under her father's care with little exposure to other people.

Even so, one of the many things that Draco did not know about his youngest daughter was that she was a very intuitive girl for her age. Her strong sense of intuition was a gift from her mother's genes, further honed by her practice of the magical arts.

"There's something else, right? Something that you are not telling me."

She was right. The moment the words left her mouth, her father tensed up. There was indeed something wrong. Hermione's hands tightened around his arms at the same time, and Draco knew that there was no escape. The pressure on his arms told him enough; there wasn't even a need for him to look into her face to deduce that. That was, if he could even bring himself to do that. There was nothing he could do now, except to…tell her the…truth.

He exhaled shakily, knowing that there was no way he could avoid this or worm his way out. How was he going to say it? That he was sending her off to be a prisoner for the Beast to atone for his mistake? That he was threatened?

"I…"

"I'm sorry," he choked out, his voice breaking horribly.

Hermione withdrew away from him, her forehead creased in a frown.

"Father, what happened? Please don't do that, _please_."

She watched the defeated, pathetic man shook his head, hot tears mixing with dirt and sweat. It was not a pleasant sight for the seventeen year old. No child would ever want to see their parent break down right in front of them.

"I-I'm sorry, my child!"

The young girl could not take it any longer and knelt in front of her father and practically screamed her irritation at him.

"TELL ME WHAT ON EARTH YOU ARE SORRY ABOUT!"

Muted shaking of a head.

"FATHER!"

Draco clenched his eyes tightly shut as he searched for his voice.

"I-I…The b-beast wants y-you as a prisoner…I'm so-sorry, my child. It was entirely my fault…"

Silence.

The young girl moved swiftly backwards, her wide eyes staring at the silently sobbing man in disbelief.

"You said…the beast wants me as his prisoner?" A small voice, barely audible, shattered the fragile silence in the room and Draco's heart.

"Her…" Draco corrected weakly, but could not bring himself to complete the sentence. He placed his elbows on his knees and buried his face into his palms, as though he could block out reality by doing so.

"But why?! Why would he want to do so?!" She totally ignored her father's weak intrusion on the beast's gender. She was furious, angry that the beast would want to tear her family apart; tear her _father _apart by taking her away from him-

"Wait; what do you mean by it's _your fault?"_

"I-I..." Hermione leaned in closer to catch her father's barely audible voice. "I stumbled across that cr-creature's castle on my way back from the p-port. Th-there was a beautiful garden. With roses. And I remembered that you…" His voice died off unexpectedly. Taking a deep breath, the man shakily continued.

"And I…offended _it _by picking the rose."

"So it wants to take me as prisoner."

Her tone was low, almost silent. It was not questioning, nor an angry protest. It was one of acceptance. It was a frightening acceptance to Draco; the girl did not utter even a single word of protest.

"My child…"

"When?" She asked shortly.

"Two days time…Please, my child…don't"

"Don't go?" Hermione stared at her father in disbelief. "Don't you think it is a bit too late to for that? If I don't go, who will? You?" She cut him short as he open his mouth weakly to protest. "You picked the rose _for me, _Father. I was the one who asked you for a red rose."

"Child, you don't have to-"

"Father, I'll never let you go and die in that creature's hands, you know that. It will not let you go if it doesn't have me, I know that. They took Mother, and I can't let them take you too."

Tears flowed and streamed down the grimy cheeks of the man. The young girl was juxtaposed standing next to the seated man and she stared hard at the barely opened window, her eyes cold, her fists clenched by her sides. Her mind was made, and nothing could ever change it. The wind continued howling and roaring and screaming, and the branches continued smashing and trashing and smacking at the house which continued creaking and whining and sobbing in agony.


	5. Chapter 5

_A.N: It's be__en long, I know. =) _

**Chapter 5**

Rustling sounds interrupted the soft voices of the various bugs and insects as Hermione made her way through the forest. Her lips were clamped tightly together, eyes hard, and her grip was strong on her most precious possession- her wand. Never once did she ever dreamt of losing it. Hermione did not even dare to wonder what she would do without it. It would be a nightmare to even imagine that.

The girl tackled her way through the forest, battling with nature. Ever so occasionally, the battered travelling cloak wrapped around her thin shoulders would get caught on some stubborn twig or branch, and Hermione would sweep the cloak loose without even looking back and continue on her way. It was as though Mother Nature was trying to pull her back; to stop her from doing something foolish. Probably to prevent her from following in the footsteps of her mother. But it was not her choice, was it?

Her mother had a choice.

The sky was still light, but it wouldn't be so for long. There was about two hours left before the sun sets; and Hermione knew that she have to reach the old stone castle before then to keep her family out of danger.

Her family…

"_My child, no…" Draco's voice was a pain-filled whisper. Father and daughter were standing at the gate, which was wrenched off its hinges the previous night by the storm. He reached out to grab her hand, but the girl took a step back. She was trying to harden herself and lock her emotions up so as not to let her father worry, but her barriers were threatening to break down as she looked at her father's emaciated body and his pain-filled gaze. _

"_I'll be fine, Father. I'll be back soon." Hermione avoided his eyes, determined not to cry. She knew it was not true, she knew that the chances of her returning were minimal; she was to be a prisoner. But there wasn't anything else she could say to lessen her father's pain and guilt. _

_Draco knew that she was only trying to make him feel better, and appreciated her for doing so. However, that did not really help much. If anything, it made him felt worse. His daughter was so grown-up, so mature; such a fine young lady, albeit a bit too quiet and reserved. He wanted her to get married, find a nice husband (hopefully someone unlike him) who can provide for her. Have children. Settle down happily in a nice home and live a life of comfort. _

_All his hopes are dashed now. _

However hard Draco were to try, Hermione would never change her mind. She never did whenever she set her sights on something; a stubborn young woman she was. She was stubborn; but she was by no doubt selfless.

Hermione did not know whether the Beast will stay true to her word and come for her family if she fail to show up, but the girl certainly knew better than to doubt the words of one coming from a vicious family. Chances were; the female Beast would be just as _nice_ as her tyrant of a father was.

And everyone knew how _beastly _that man was. Not literally though; it was all reflected in his actions.

There were rumors around the villages and towns. Of course, people have nothing better to do other than gossip and drink cheap beer at the local bars in their leisure time. Some of the stories were plain rubbish, being extravagantly exaggerated and decorated with lies; while others were full of baseless assumptions that it was pointless listening to them.

But of course, out of the many variants, there has to be one that has proven itself to be quite believable.

Once, there was a noble family living in the now run-down castle. The duke was a tyrant, often capturing people who offended him even in the very slightest sense. The duchess died soon after giving birth to a girl, and because of that, the king hated the young child to the core. He had loved his wife dearly, and he would rather have the daughter die in her place. He became worse, and more and more people disappeared. Rumor was that the duke captured them and used them as subjects for his spells in his anger. No one dared to rein him in, or even attempt to do so. Not a single person, except for Hermione's mother. And she failed. After her disappearance, the duke continued with his erroneous ways. Until, suddenly, one day, the captures stopped completely. It was as though he had disappeared off the face of the world. Vanished without a trace. As for his daughter, nothing was heard about her. Nothing at all; except for her birth. No one knew how the Beast came about either. There were no tales speaking of where and when the Beast came to be in the castle, seeing that no one ever dared to venture near the residence of the duke and his family. The only reason why the people even found out about the Beast's existence was when a young man stumbled past, caught a glimpse, freaked out and babbled about it all over the village. Since then, people grew to be more fearing of the castle and avoided going near it totally; they rather extend their trip by one day from taking a detour.

As she trudged determinedly along, Hermione guessed that the female beast residing at the castle is the daughter of the duke. But regardless of whether the beast is the daughter of the duke, the son of the king, the reincarnation of Merlin; Hermione spared not a single thought for it. She was a young, stubborn woman with a purpose; one engraved deeply into her heart. She would enter the castle, confront the creature and give it her _all_.

She would save her father.

She would make her mother proud.

It was not long before Hermione finally reached the old castle. It stood coolly, towering over her.

Hermione approached the castle slowly, her muffled steps amplified by the eerie silence of the woods. The gate stood mockingly, as though it was daring her to approach. The girl took a deep breath and touched her hands to the cold metal.

_The moment his bare hands touched the cold metal, it melted away from sight._

Hermione walked into the void left by the gate, stopped and looked up at the castle. It was old, yes, and by no doubt scary, as are all old castles. The windows were merely holes in the thick stone walls, revealing no secrets of the dark, mysterious castle- no; wait-

Something just flitted past one of the windows in the tower at the west part of the castle.

Hermione felt her fingers wrapped themselves tighter around her wand involuntarily. The warmth from it comforted her considerably.

Dancing flames shot out of candlewicks the moment she stepped into the entrance hall, bathing her in the glow of the candlelight. No one was there.

Hermione moved with skills of stealth, senses on the alert. She moved from one wing to another, but still, no one appeared, neither man nor beast.

Shadows danced on the walls every single time she enters a different room. More than once, Hermione thought she saw something moved through her peripheral view, but it turned out to be a trick of light. The castle was virtually empty; no furniture, no portraits, nothing. Although Hermione did not want to doubt her father's words, she was starting to suspect that her father had a drop too much of Firewhisky prior to his journey back.

Dust lined her fingers as she slowly dragged them across the cold stone wall. She could vaguely feel small, light jolts of static now and then. Magic traces… Someone had only just recently performed some major spell in this room.

"Wha-?"

The candles all blew out; all out of a sudden. Snuffed out quickly. Hermione drew her cloak tighter around herself. She tried to take her mind off the darker, unknown side of life. She tried to not draw links between the sudden exhaustion of flame and human lives. She tried to ignore and forget what the rumors said.

*whisks*

"Who's th-"

"Expelliarmus!"

"Hey!"

Hermione helplessly watched her wand soar right into the shadows, her face stretched into an unappealing scowl. Despite the boiling fury within her, the furious woman was speechless for words. Not to mention that she was feeling quite vulnerable without her wand; her only defense. Fighting the Beast with teeth and claws was not likely to be useful since the Beast was…well, a beast.

"You might as well stop hiding; I know what you are. What do you want from me?"

Nothing.

Hermione could make out the faint outline of a…figure in the shadows. Not exactly a human figure; but it was close. The outline told of someone, or _something, _that was tall, lanky and slightly slouched; with a long protruding…something at the head area. She took a step closer, warily. Squinting and narrowing her eyes did not help much; but it made her feel a minimal sense of security, at the very least. It was a naïve thought to think that she could block whatever fear or danger out just by shutting her eyes if anything happens; but it offered her some comfort, nevertheless.

Hermione leapt back hastily and clumsily as the figure moved from the confines of the darkest shadows. Narrowing her eyes, she tried to make out some distinct form or appearance, but failed to do so. Until…

"Ah!"

The room was suddenly bathed in a halo of candlelight that pierced through the darkness. Hermione had to shield her eyes from the painful glare. Her eyes were starting to tear, and she rubbed them with irritation, trying to regain her vision. And then she froze.

Her recovering eyes took in the sight in front of her. Her brain took half a second to have the vision registered. Bells went off in her head. Hermione's defensive instincts kicked in and came to the forefront with whatever little thoughts of self-preservation she has (that was not lost to fear).

"What do you want?"

It was pretty amazing and commendable that her voice did not crack from fear; although it did shook a little. But the stubborn young woman held her ground and glare against the creature/woman/beast/bird/whatever.

The beast was twirling her wand and…studying it? Hermione frowned. The other feathered arm (the right one, she noted) was held behind the beast's back. Probably hiding its own wand from sight, Hermione thought angrily. She mentally kicked herself for letting her guard down earlier.

Rule number one; never drop your guard even when armed with your wand. Additional note; _especially _when you are armed with your wand.

Forget rule number one now. The bird-lady raised her head slowly to meet Hermione's glare with an icy gaze of her own.

"I thought I made it clear to your father?"

A pause.

"I want you."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Hermione's heart seemed to stop beating upon hearing the words spill out from the creature. Stunned was the young girl, so much so that she could barely even get her mouth to move to utter these few words.

"You…_want me?"_

It was an awkward question, but most definitely not a rhetorical one. The creature however, did not even bother to acknowledge her words, but merely pivoted around and started walking away. It/She stowed her wand back into the cloak that was protectively wrapped around her mutant physique, but continued twirling Hermione's precious security stick in her hands. Irritation and ire rose up in Hermione. She never liked being ignored, nor taunted. The girl stomped angrily after the creature, determined to get an answer and her wand back.

The creature however, paid no heed to the young girl. Even if she noticed the girl, she gave no sign of it. Her blissful ignorance did not ameliorate the fuming anger of the girl though. By any case, it actually fuelled the fire even more. Hermione felt cheated, small, insignificant and mocked.

She followed the beast up a whole flight of circular stairs, the path lit by torches lining the stone walls of the old castle. She jogged occasionally, afraid to lose sight of the creature but she never ventured close due to distrust and a slight twinge of fear. After all, her wand was still held captive by the beast, and she did not want to become the unfortunate victim of her own possession.

The beast moved swiftly and surprisingly gracefully for someone of such an unusual build. She was lanky; almost frail-looking from the back when Hermione got close on one instance while trying to keep up. Hermione was curious to know how the beast came to be living in the castle, but she knew better than to probe.

It was not long before they reached a level and the beast finally turned away from the steps. Hermione, preferring to stay at home while her sisters skip out to socialize, naturally was not exceptionally fit physically. Hence, she was silently glad that the beast decided that they had conquered enough steps for the day.

Hermione slowed her pace slightly while heading up the last few steps, and almost regretted doing so for she almost lost sight of the beast in the corridor. Thankfully, her eyes were sharp and observant enough to catch the hem of a cloak sweeping into a room a little distance ahead. Panting slightly, the young girl made her way towards the room in a small jog.

The sight that greeted her rendered her speechless. The brunette's breathe caught in her throat upon seeing the golden rose that resided within the safe confines of the bell jar. The beast stood a little beyond the bell jar that was the center of attraction in the room, at a window in the stone wall with her back towards the brunette.

A sudden wave of sadness and empathy washed over the young brunette. The rose in the bell jar looked forlorn and lonely, despite its glorious beauty. The flower's beauty only served to make it more lonely and pitiful. Its head was drooping downwards listlessly; and as Hermione watch, a single, lonely, golden petal detached itself from its rightful place, floating silently to the bottom of the bell jar.

As if on cue, the beast turned around slowly upon the end of the petal's journey. Her strange face bore an undistinguishable expression. Hermione noted the emptiness and void in the dull cerulean eyes; eyes that have seen years of loneliness and unknown sorrow. She almost felt pity for the creature that stood in front of her.

The beast's eyes rested on the fallen petal.

"It has started."

"Sorry?"

The beast ignored Hermione's question. The cold, dismissive treatment was starting to get on the brunette's nerves, but she bit back any form of retort. However irritated she was with the beast, she found that she could not bring herself to shoot back. Hermione did not know whether it was a trick of light, or the work of hallucination due to her fears, or perhaps the magical doing of the beast, but she actually felt sorry for the creature.

The beast diverted her gaze away from the bell jar and met Hermione's. However, she made no attempt to speak, nor did she make any move.

After a minute or so of glaring at the confusing creature, Hermione could not stand the beast's silence any further. It disturbed her greatly to be locked in the strange old castle alone with the creature, without her wand, not even knowing why the creature wanted her there in the first place. As you can see, Hermione's not one who could live without answers.

"Okay, I have enough of your silence. You made me climb an insane amount of steps to see a rose? I demand an answer."

The beast broke eye contact, and silently moved towards the bell jar. With Hermione's wand, she Vanished the jar, leaving the golden rose exposed and vulnerable.

"This is not just any rose," the beast lightly picked up the fragile life, taking care to avoid the sharp thorns. "This is my life."

If Hermione was confused before, then she was really befuddled after hearing the creature's words.

"I don't understand."

"I don't expect you to." The beast placed the rose back down, leaving it magically floating in place. With a clawed hand, she picked up the fallen petal. Much to Hermione's surprise, she smiled at it sadly. The young girl never thought that she would see the fearsome creature _smile. _The bell jar reappeared with another wave of the wand.

"Then? Are you going to tell me or what?"

The beast shook her head lightly, than beckoned Hermione to come closer to her. Hermione warily moved closer, her eyes on her wand that was still clutched between the claws of the beast. Noting the brunette's caution, the beast stowed the wand into her cloak. When Hermione was close enough, the creature took hold of her hand, much to Hermione's shock. Her hold was gentle.

"You have to figure it out yourself." The beast dropped her hand, and Hermione opened her fist to find the fragile, golden petal resting in her palm.

She looked up at the beast with confusion in her eyes.

"This is the rose that your father tried to take away from me. For you."

Understanding descended upon the young girl. Her father had tried to steal the beast's most precious possession. It was a no wonder why the beast was so furious. However, she still has no idea why the golden flower mattered so much to the creature. But then again, the beast said she have to figure it out on her own.

"So you want me as your prisoner."

"I didn't say that earlier on, but I did say that to your father."

"So I am your prisoner."

"If you want it to be that way; then yes."

"What if I refuse?"

"Then you are not."

Hermione was starting to suspect that the creature was fooling around with her head. It almost seemed to her that the beast was playing around with her. Like how some animals like to play with their food before they eat it. Hermione shuddered inwardly at that thought and shook her head to get the images out of her mind.

"So I am free to leave?"

"I did not say that."

Frustration did not sit well with the stubborn and short-tempered brunette. With the evasiveness and the mysteriousness of the creature, it was only a matter of time before the brunette give in to her temper.

"Then what do you want from me? Will you please stop being so confusing?"

The beast did not appear to be shock by the girl's sudden outburst, which made Hermione more irritated.

"I did not say that I am keeping you as a prisoner; but neither did I say you are allowed to leave."

"That much I know," Hermione grumbled silently.

"You are to stay in this castle with me. And you are not allowed to leave the castle unless I permit you to."

"So how does that make me any different from a prisoner!" Hermione threw her hands up in disbelief and exasperation. Still, the beast remained unfazed.

"I'm not locking you up," she replied simply.

The whole exchange was almost comical, but definitely not to the brunette. After their little conversation in the room, the beast led Hermione to the room where she will be sleeping in. There, she left Hermione to her own explorations of her new room.

It was even better than what Hermione had before her father lost his fortune. There was no questioning the age of the room and the furniture, but Hermione did not mind. The aged feel gave her a source of comfort and warmth in the otherwise cold castle. The wick in the lamp burned strong, making the room warm and homely. However, it did not make up for the loneliness that resounded loudly in the room. In fact, it was not only the room that seemed lonely, but the whole castle.

Hermione ran her hands over the soft queen-sized bed, surveyed the wide variety of cloaks and dress robes residing in the wardrobe and flipped through the books shelved away in a corner. The robes and cloaks were new, with the smell of fresh cloth and threads. Hermione was certainly curious about how the beast managed to get all these. She never made any appearances in town nor in the market, neither did she request for delivery, for Hermione knew of none who actually catered to the beast's needs.

A knock in the door interrupted her musing, and at the same time, Hermione's stomach let out an embarrassingly loud growl. She made her way to the door, silently hoping that the beast had not heard her stomach's outburst.

The door swung open to reveal not the beast; in fact, there seemed to be no one in sight. Hermione frowned in confusion, before a squeak somewhere around her navel caused her to jump back in alarm.

"I'm sorry for startling you Miss, but dinner is ready. The Mistress sent me up to escort you down."

Hermione looked down and much to her amazement, a house-elf stood bowed, with hands extended, indicating the way. He was neatly dressed in a plain but expensive-looking robe shrunk down to his size.

"Who- who are you?"

Still bowed, the house-elf answered with formality. "Pardon my grave mistake, Miss. I am Dobby, and I serve the great Mistress Delacour."

_So her family name is Delacour. _Hermione took in this new piece of information with interest. She have no idea what the family name of the Duke's family was, seeing that all the wild speculation that was always going on in town was more often than not senseless and baseless assumptions.

"Miss, if you would kindly follow Dobby, Dobby will be honored to guide you to the dining room where Mistress awaits."

"Sure, thank you."

Dobby led her back to the ground floor, through a door to the right of the entrance hall, in which she first stepped foot in. There, a long table took the center of the room, with candles taking center-place on the table. And there, at the head of the table, sat the beast in an antique chair with a tall back.

Upon seeing Hermione, the beast rose from her seat and moved to the other end of the table, where Dobby directed Hermione. Much to Hermione's surprise, the beast pulled the chair out for her.

Awkwardly, Hermione slipped in with muttered thanks, and the beast, with all manners of a gentleman, or lady in this case, pushed her chair in for her.

The beast took her seat again, and then motioned to Dobby that dinner can be served. Dobby obeyed with a deep bow before hustling off to where Hermione assumed was the kitchen. The next moment, the first dish was served, but by two house-elves whom Hermione did not know existed. She had, of course, naively thought that there was only Dobby in the huge castle.

Halfway through the meal, Hermione decided to speak.

"Thank you for the room and the clothes."

"Thank the elves; they prepared it."

Awkward silence ensued again.

"How many elves are there in this castle?"

"Enough to maintain it."

Silence again.

At long last, Hermione's patience reached its limits. The young had enough of the dismissive treatment. She let her cutlery fall to the plate in a clatter. The beast glanced up disinterestedly before returning to her dessert.

"Can you stop being like this?"

"That depends on what I'm being like."

"You are being cold, unwelcoming and overly secretive! Can't you open up a bit more?"

"There's no need to."

"You can't expect me to stay on like this forever if you insist on being so unsociable!"

"You were never sociable either, from what I've heard."

"You spied on me?"

"I didn't. I said I 'heard'."

"If you insist on being like this, I'm going to leave."

"I like to see you try."

Hermione stood up in a huff. "Fine. No need for goodbyes. I will see myself to the door," Hermione stomped off to the entrance hall.

In the dining room, the beast smirked to herself. "You'll see yourself back."


	7. Chapter 7

_A.N. Big exams coming in two weeks time. And I'm feeling...I don't know what I'm feeling._

**Chapter 7: Trapped**

Hermione exited the dining room in a huff and made her way towards the main door. No one tried to stop her; much to her disappointment. She would like very much to scream at a couple of people, with the _Mistress Delacour _being one of them, to spice up her departure with some dramatic emphasis.

There were neither charms nor any form of locks on the main door. Hermione was mildly surprised at the lack of security and protection on the castle, but her surprise barely matched up to her wariness. She has a nagging feeling somewhere that the beast would not let her go that easily.

Her gut feeling proved her right. After making her way all the way out to the wrought iron gate, she paused in her steps.

She had forgotten her wand.

It was most absurd. She was so near to leaving then, but her strong emotional attachment to that stick held her back. Most people would just continue ahead and get another wand once they are freed from the confines of the castle, being glad to get away from the creature; but not Hermione. The wand meant a lot to her. It was a gift from her mother.

The young girl was in a huge dilemma. On one hand, her family stood beyond the gates, earnestly praying (she hoped) for her return. Well, she was the only one in her family capable of throwing together a proper, edible meal, so you can just imagine how her family will get along without her presence. Even if they do not have strong emotional attachments to her, especially her two sisters, she was willing to bet that they would still hoped for her return due to their daily dependency on her.

With her living family in mind, Hermione decided, with a heavy heart, to proceed ahead. After all, the wand was a mere object in which she had foolishly (she tried to convince herself) attached meaning to it. Her mother was likely to have moved on to her next life already; it was pointless (again, she tried to convince herself) to cling on to that fragmented memory of her mother and throw away a possible life of freedom.

Memories…such elusive, complicated enigmas. But yet so simple and easily manipulated.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione stepped forward with her decision in mind. She rested a palm on the cold metal, expecting the gate to magically melt away like it did earlier on.

It did not.

The young girl frowned at her palm. She then tried using the other hand, but it did not work; not even when she rubbed both hands over every inch possible on the metal gate like some pantomime act. Growing annoyed and desperate, she slammed her palm onto the intricate designs on the gate. Yet again, that failed to achieve the effect she wanted, and only gained her an unwelcomed, searing, pain.

Several minutes of fruitless attempts in trying to get past the gate without her wand made Hermione frustrated and weary enough to disregard any shame and trudge grudgingly back towards the castle. She had tried all ways and means, from pressing suspicious, trigger-looking knobs in the iron to attempting to scale the gate and get over from the top; but still, she failed. The iron heated up when she tried to climb over, thus making it impossible to do so. And after pressing the gate in almost all the places she could find, she was finally convinced that there were no secret mechanisms concealed within the structure.

And she was convinced that the beast meant it when she said that Hermione was not allowed to leave.

_The damn bitch._

Hermione felt foolish and even embarrassed. She silently wished that no one witnessed her strange antics out in the garden, and angrily cursed the beast for deliberately messing with her by not stopping her from her attempt to leave. To think that she pitied the beast earlier on…Hermione felt like a complete joke.

She hastily made her way up to her room, not wanting to meet anyone. She was thankful to be able to make her way there unseen. The brunette heaved a sigh of relief when back in the safety of her room, snapping the mahogany door shut behind her. She was not ready to be ridiculed by the beast just yet.

With a huff, she threw herself onto the bed and sulked. There she lay, fuming in silence.

"Miss?"

Hermione sat up with a start. She had drifted off into a light sleep after lying there for so long. Hastily, the brunette scrambled over to the door. She took a deep breath and tried to shake off the blush on her face.

Upon opening the door, Dobby's formal face greeted her. He bent down in another low bow in greeting.

"Hi Dobby. It is all right, you need not be so formal with me. You can call me Hermione."

Dobby looked up at her with a face of shock. "No Miss! The Mistress will be very angry if she hears that Dobby is not treating Miss well!"

"I'm not asking you to mistreat me, Dobby," Hermione answered patiently. "I'm just asking you to be friends. Your mistress doesn't have to know about it."

Dobby gave a doubtful glance to the side. It was only then did Hermione notice another elf present.

"This here is Winky, Miss…Hermione. Winky is here to prepare Miss Hermione's bath."

Deciding that it would be best for Dobby to call her as such, Hermione did not attempt to correct him. "Thank you Dobby."

Turning to Winky, who seemed to be much more reserved and shy, Hermione nodded and smiled. "Thank you Winky."

Winky let out a nervous, high-pitched squeak. Dobby, on the other hand, gave another deep bow. "Dobby will take his leave now, Miss Hermione. Please enjoy your bath."

Hermione nodded to Dobby before he retreated. Then, she let Winky into the room. Winky headed right over to the attached bathroom to start readying the water for Hermione's bath. When the young woman tried to follow, Winky shook her head so vigorously that Hermione was afraid that it may fall off.

"No Miss! This is Winky's duty! Miss can take a rest while Winky prepares the bath for Miss!"

On seeing the elf's violent reaction, the young woman decided that it was best for her not to interfere with the elf's chore. Not wanting to make things difficult for Winky, Hermione went back to the bed. Perhaps it was because of the long and grueling journey, or maybe it was due to the strain of all the happenings, Hermione dozed off again.

Winky woke her up a while later to inform the girl that the bath is ready. The jumpy elf took her leave after Hermione assured her that she would be fine on her own. The brunette let her slight smile slip off her face after the door closed, a sigh escaping her soft lips.

The bath was no doubt refreshing; it cleared up the young girl's fuzzy mind. It was a whole cartload of emotions that she has fallen into that day, confusing her so much that she just couldn't tell whether it was tears or the bath water that was running down her face. It confused her so much that she couldn't help but feel like a total cliché.

Dressed in the clothes she found laid out for her, Hermione was afraid that she would lose her own humanity in the castle. Would she become like the beast? She was highly suspicious that the beast became so unsociable and inept at human interaction because of its isolated life. But come to think of it again, Hermione never interacted much. There was the occasional smile and nod; but they were not much. Though in light of her current situation, those little attempts at being sociable make her feel like a social butterfly compared to the _bitch _in the castle.

The clothes were by no doubt fine, even better than what she had in the past when Draco still had his fortune before he was unfortunate enough to lose it. But she felt out of place in the fine silk and smooth satin robes. She felt suffocated by the soft material that barely clung to her in its silkiness. Everything seemed too much for her to take; the harsh smoothness of the silk, the painfully dim candlelight, the freezing warmth of the room. Even the books on the shelf seemed to threaten her with their aged, ripped spines and dog-eared pages.

For the first time in her life, Hermione yearn for the warmth of human relationships.


	8. Chapter 8

_A.N- Yes, action's just getting started :) I'm kind of half-asleep now. Zzz. First paper is in seven days' time. Wish me luck :)_

**Chapter 8**

"_Dobby, where is my father?"_

"_Master is busy; Miss Delacour."_

"_Why is he always busy? He never ever comes out to play with me."_

"_Master is a busy man, Miss. He needs to look after all the villagers and townspeople-"_

"_-Then what about me, Dobby? Shouldn't Papa look after me too?"_

…

The beast stood still and silent, staring out of the narrow, stone window as the sun slowly made its descend. She was musing; quite deep in thought. Trying to make some sense out of the little bits and pieces of memories that lay scattered in her mind. Trying to piece them together into the full picture that always seemed to elude her.

"Dobby."

"Yes Mistress? How can Dobby assist you?"

The beast twirled her wine glass absent-mindedly, before lazily throwing a glance at the elf that just scuttled up to her. "How many times have I told you to not call me that?"

"Dobby is sorry, Mistr- _Miss Delacour."_

"Don't call me by that scum's name."

"Yes, Miss…Fleur."

Fleur shook her head. Eighteen years; she grew up in the elf's care for eighteen years. He was a servant, a caregiver, a friend; he was _kin. _He has been even more of a father than her biological father was. Yet he still refused to call her by her name, however much she told him to. She did not really care what the other elves called her, but Dobby…he was different. Old habits die hard though.

Place that aside for now.

"Dobby, do you think I'm being cruel?"

Dobby hesitated, unsure of what to say. Fleur sighed.

"Is it cruel of me to keep her here, away from her family?"

"Dobby don't know, Mis-"

"-If it is indeed cruel, then wasn't it also cruel for that scum of a father to keep me awa_y? I am HIS daughter. His child! He never took a look at me. Never."_

The glass shattered; the beastly woman's eyes glowed red.

"…I can't even remember what that man looks like either."

"Miss, Miss Fl-Fleur, please calm down."

Fleur inhaled deeply, her eyes closed. Her grip remained tight around what remained of the wine glass. Dobby let his shoulders sag slightly in relief after seeing Fleur's breathing slowing to a normal rate. A while later, the young woman's grip loosened. Fine dust floated slowly down to rest on the old carpet, joining the glass shards that luckily escaped the grasp and wrath of the beast.

Fleur slowly made her way to the rose that was floating safely in its glass dome. She ran a clawed finger along the cool surface of the glass castle.

"Is it so wrong to keep her here because I do not want to feel lonely anymore?"

…

"Miss Hermione?"

A muffled voice replied from inside the room.

A muffled, tired, miserable voice.

"I told you, Dobby; I'm _not _going down for breakfast, lunch, tea, dinner, _whatever."_

"But Miss Hermione needs to eat!"

"I don't." A soft rumble of protest issued from the brunette's stomach. The girl blushed into her covers, and then attempt to muffle the sound with the blankets by wrapping herself firmly and tightly in them.

"Bu-"

"I would like it very much if you would be kind enough to join me for dinner." A smooth, gentle voice cut into Dobby's shrill and squeaky one.

Hermione almost tumbled out of her bed, threatening to take the sheets with her. Some part of her held disbelief in the realism of the situation. The hushed contralto had caught her by surprise. There was no questioning who that voice belonged to; it could only be one person. A person who could not even really qualify as one in Hermione's terms. The brunette shook her head furiously; brown locks whipping against the incredulous expression she wore on her face.

"Please?" There was an inconspicuous quiver in the voice, a scratch of unease from the use of an imploring card which the owner of the voice has not drawn for as long as she could remember.

"Erm, ah...er…"

"If it makes you more comfortable, I will wait in the dining room. You can come down when you are ready."

Fleur stood outside the door, head bowed. Deeply hidden behind the mask of coolness was the churning fear of rejection; Fleur craved for the brunette's company. However much the brunette hated her, she was still the only real human Fleur has been near, ever since she was born. She longed; no – _thirst _to hear-

"…All right."

It was only after fifteen minutes did Hermione make her way down; having spent said fifteen minutes trying to make herself look presentable. Logic told her that there was no need to do that; it was just a simple dinner. But something inside her wanted to. The girl tried to justify her actions to be a show of respect; a feeble attempt to salvage control over the situation, to make her feel that she still retained some of her…rationality and sanity. And let us not forget _humanity._

Just as she had promised, the beast was patiently waiting in the dining room. Hermione had no idea why, but she paused awkwardly at the doorway, unsure of how to go about things. It was all out of a sudden that she felt lost and nervous, however much she tried to remind herself over and over again that it was just an ordinary meal.

_But it was with an extraordinary creature!_

The beast rose from her seat and smoothly walked over to the young girl. She offered a clawed hand, which the brunette took with hesitation and stuttered thanks, suddenly feeling self-conscious of how clammy her hands were. The beast took her hands gently, taking care not to scratch her with the inch long talons that were supposed to be fingernails. With surprising manners of a gentleman, the beast led the young woman to her seat, once again pulling out her chair for her and ensuring that she was comfortable.

Hermione could not help the slight shiver that ran down her back when the beast accidentally brushed her hair aside while making her way back to her own seat. It was not a reaction of fear; neither was it one of disgust. It was just an involuntary spasm, one that left the brunette feeling soothed, yet irritation towards herself as well, for feeling that way.

_Feelings; so paradoxical. _

With cue from the beast, dinner was served under candlelight. The beast's expression was surprisingly neutral; a much better change from the hostile, cold gaze that she wore just the day before when Hermione first arrived. One would think that Hermione would be more accepting, or even welcoming of this change; but no. The young woman felt disturbed at the suddenness of the beast's change in demeanor. It is not everyday someone changes overnight; especially not when it is a hundred and eighty degree change.

"I heard Dobby mention that your name is Hermione."

Hermione looked up, wide-eyed in a mixture of shock and surprise, before finding her reflexes again to nod mutely in response. The beast looked mildly amused, the sides of her beaked mouth slightly upturned. Then again, it could have been a mocking smirk; Hermione was not sure. One can never be in the flickering candle-light.

"My name is Fleur."

"Why are you being like this?"

Fleur froze in place, knife and fork carefully held in claws paused in their work. The beast looked up straight into the brunette's eyes, "Isn't this better? I thought you hated how I behaved yesterday?"

"It is…" Hermione trailed off, her eyes darting to the far, shadowed corner in discomfort. "But why are you doing this for me?"

"Please." A silent statement with a rough edge to it. "I am not doing this for anyone other than myself."

A faint shade of pink touched the warm contours on the face of the young woman. Fleur however, showed no sign that she was aware of the effect of her words. Perhaps it was the lack of interaction with normal civilians, or maybe it was a life of lavishness and excess that crippled her capability of tact; it didn't mattered. At least not to the woman who, for a reason not known yet, came to be known as the Beast feared by all (or almost all).

"Then why? Why do you see the sudden need to change? You are not making any sense."

The accusatory tone cut deep into Fleur. A frustrated snarl broke loose and a huge crash was heard the next moment. Fleur had swept the plates and goblet in front of her onto the floor, her nails scraping the wooden table with a discomforting screech. But that could not be compared to what came after.

Hermione was stunned. Frozen stiff in her seat. Her eyes were widened in terror. Helplessness settled around the woman. She had never been witness to such violence and aggression before. She did not think that the beast would react in such a way to her bold words.

The beast was heaving; shaking. The claws were clenched tightly on the edge of the splintering wooden table. Eyes were clamped tightly shut. The face was a mask of indescribable pain.

"Fleu-"

The loud, ripping sound of fabric cut the brunette's feeble voice short. A scream of agony followed. A scream that Hermione came to realize, was _not _from herself, but from the tormented creature standing _in front of her_.

Black wings extended imposingly, spread in all their dark glory in a call to the skies. The beast let out a high, pained screech akin to the cry of a bird. Ruby eyes flared. Talons sharpened menacingly in the flickering candlelight. The beak grew to be more prominent. There seemed to be a subtle change in the colour of the beast's feathers as well; they grew a darker shade of blue, almost black, with violent red streaks.

"Mistress!"

Dobby came running in with a couple of elves following closely behind. Winky hurried over to Hermione and tried to lead her out of the room, but the young woman rejected her actions. Despite the chaotic moment, Hermione rose in a trance and made her way towards the creature trashing about in agony.

"Mistress- Fleur, please calm down! Dobby is at a lo-"

"Mistress!"

"Should we just petrify Mist-"

"NO! No…" The harried elves stopped scurrying around trying to get Fleur under control and turned to look at Hermione. The young woman was standing rigidly, looking surprisingly calm. Hermione ignored Winky, who was desperately trying to get her to leave the dining room, tugging hard at the hem of her robes. "No…she's not…herself."

"You should leave, Miss Hermione; it is too dang-"

"I won't."

Hermione stood her ground. Something inside her could not bear leaving, and leaving the beast- no, Fleur, in the lurch. Wait; was it pity, or empathy that she felt? She could not bear to see Fleur struggle in the loneliness and brutality of her situation, even though a slight part of her felt alienated from the scene in front of her.

Fleur glared at her with pain-filled eyes; hatred burning strong. She could not speak, but Hermione knew that Fleur did not want her there. Not when she was in such a vulnerable state.

But the young woman was not going to leave, whether the beast liked it or not.

"Could all of you kindly leave the two of us alone, Dobby?"

Dobby looked aghast and shook his head furiously, "Dobby has to be here for Mistress Delacour; it is Dobby's dut-"

"It's all right, Dobby. I'm here. I will calm her down."

"But Miss Hermione, it is dangerous. Miss Hermione could get hurt."

"I can take care of myself. Please, Dobby."

Dobby was taken aback; but it was a request that he could not turn down. Yes, it was a request; it was not an order. That made it harder for him to go against it; knowing that Hermione regarded them as equals. He knew that Hermione was determined in getting her way, and there was no point going against her will.

He bowed deeply again, and the other elves followed suit. And they were all gone in a moment.

With care, the brunette slowly approached Fleur, who was slumped on the cold stone floor, breathing heavily. Her hair/feathers were a grimy mess, her clothes ripped from the sudden transformations. Leathery wings were spread across the floor, limp from exhaustion.

However, Hermione thought wrong. She had assumed that the beast was too tired to react to her actions. Of course, assumptions could never be overly relied upon. Just as the brunette was about two feet away from the limp creature, the sharp scraping of her shoes across the floor led the beast to jump up in a defensive stance. Eyes glowed red and narrowed in distrust, but the posture of the beast betrayed its exhaustion.

"It's all right, Fleur," the beast relaxed slightly upon hearing its…_her, _name. However, the eyes still bore a strong hint of wariness. Hermione inched closer slowly, hands held up in a sign of peace.

"Let me help you."

Slowly, carefully, with deliberation in her movement, Hermione reached out to the struggling creature.

Her hands slowly approached the soft down lining the beast's thin arms.

A bit more…closer…

A loud snarl broke loose suddenly. The woman leapt back in alarm, but she was not fast enough to dodge the claws of the beast as it descended upon her. She let out a scream in pain when the brutal weapons raked her shoulder swiftly; a nice, clean slash.

And the next moment, a strong wing smacked her right at the back of her head, and all was dark.

And the last thing she saw was terror-filled eyes of cerulean blue.


	9. Chapter 9

_A.N. Thank you for all the 'good luck' for the A's! I'm down to 18 days, with 6 more papers to win. :D_

_I'm starting to feel for this story; I think this is really one which I have really think through a lot to write. I don't want it to be just another superficial story where they "fall in love and live happily ever after". I really want to dig in deep and instill depth into the story and look into themes. One of which is quite obvious in this chapter. Of course, that doesn't mean that they won't "fall in love and yadda yadda yadda". Don't worry :)_

**Chapter 9**

"_Dobby, can you say my name?"_

"_Mistress Delacour."_

"_No, not that! Call me by my name!"_

"_Dobby-Dobby cannot do that, Mistress! It's against the rules!"_

"_What rules? I command you to say my name!"_

"_Please don't, Mistress Delacour!"_

"_Why is it so difficult for you to call me by my name? No one ever calls me by my name! I don't even know if I'm really Fleur! Even Daddy doesn't call me by my name! He never calls me…"_

_Dobby's long elfin ears droop in sympathy. Silvery-mane shook, small pale hands running through it; as though trying to wrench the burning question of her identity out of her mind. The girl was at a loss._

"_Who am I, Dobby? Who am I?"_

_The frustrated child slammed her small fist on the table, causing the goblets and dishes to tremble and shiver. The helpless elf shook visibly as well at the young girl's anger and sadness._

"_Mistress Del-"_

_The girl turned her head to him, a pleading look etched into her porcelain face. _

"_Please…Dobby."_

"_Dobby...Dobby…Dobby hopes Master will not blame Dobby for Dobby's insolence, Mistress…Fleur."_

…

The bird-woman scowled deeply at her hands. She paced awkwardly up and down the dim passageway, annoyed and anxious at the long time the elves were taking in the young girl's room. She had even returned back to her own room to get out of the dreadfully ripped robes. The elves were taking far too long.

Soft scuttling and hushed whispers steadily grew louder. The door swung open to reveal several stressed-looking elves, who greeted her quietly without looking at her face.

"How is she?"

"She's asleep, Mistress Fleur."

"She didn't wake up at all?"

"We decided that it is better to let her sleep; Mistress. She has not been sleeping well ever since she arrived."

Dobby's pleading tone ruffled her feathers. Fleur felt a nagging feeling of guilt. It was she, of course, who had reduced the brunette to this state.

"We'll take our leave first, Mistress Delacour."

Fleur dismissed them with a nod of her head. The elves scurried off, leaving the woman standing awkwardly in the doorway, unsure of how to proceed. Light stream out gently from the room, beckoning with its soft silken fingers of warmth. Fleur was drawn; a part of her wanted to enter the room. But another part of her wanted to stay away. For the brunette's welfare.

The door creaked slowly open, and the lanky woman slipped in quietly, taking care not to disturb the small, slumbering figure curled on the bed. In the light of the room, Fleur could see the brunette in her uninhibited self; the gentle, mild, vulnerable self that she had carefully hidden away from her.

She dared not venture close; afraid of what she might do to her. She had no idea what caused the sudden, uncontrolled transformation; all that she knew was that it felt like she was stabbed all over with thousands of burning needles. A part of her ached badly, with the burning intensity of a cold, hot flame. Her chest had constricted tightly, making the ache worst. It felt as though her body was trying to collapse into itself, yet at the same time it felt as though she was about to erupt out of her skin.

"…_Fleur…"_

The bird-lady froze beside the bookshelf, not daring to believe her ears. The brunette mumbled a whole string of muffled words and shifted in the bed. The elves had the decency to leave her in her robes, not knowing whether she would be comfortable if they helped her to change out of her ripped robes. The torn sleeve rumpled when the brunette moved, revealing a slightly pinked patch of skin with the faint red lines of newly-healed cuts.

Fleur's mouth twitched in discomfort at the sight; a reminder of her inhuman self. The slight shred of humanity within her wanted to let the girl go, but the selfish part of her craved for the girl's company. She could not bear to let go just like that. Not when she finally acquired what she wanted for so long.

"What are you doing here?"

Fleur's eyes rapidly regained focus. She was not aware that her eyes had glazed over when she was deep in thought. The brunette came into sight, looking disheveled and weary.

"I'm here to…to see whether you are…all right." Mentally, the woman smacked herself for being such a bird-brain. If the brunette was _all right, _she would not be lying in the bed right now.

"Yes, I am." Hermione attempted to sit up, but winced visibly upon feeling the soreness of her head.

Fleur rushed to her side in reflex and helped her lie back down.

"Just lie down; you hit your head quite badly. Or…to be exact, I _hit_ your head quite badly…" The beast trailed off awkwardly.

The brunette slid back onto the bed slowly. It was then Fleur realized that her hand was on the younger woman's uninjured shoulder.

"I'm sorr-"

Hermione stopped her from removing the slender hand from her shoulder and held on to it.

"It's all right. You can sit down, you know," the woman beckoned to the chair by the bed.

"No, I think it's better if I don't."

"Sit."

Fleur felt herself not being able to go against the brunette's order. Perhaps some part of her was gentleman enough to not wish to fight with an injured lady, or maybe she was just starting to develop a soft spot for the brunette. Either way, it was progress.

Hermione sighed softly, a sigh that was barely audible. But of course, the beast heard it. However, she has the tact to not probe.

"I'm sorry."

Curious brown eyes shifted to gaze at the older woman who was feeling totally awkward and out of place right next to the brunette's bed.

In a voice as soft as her sigh, the brunette gently asked. "For what?"

Her eyes lingered for a while longer on the bowed head of the woman next to her, taking in all the contours. She took the time to memorize the features; the sharp yet delicate features. It was her first time seeing the woman up close.

"For this."

Hermione did not miss the blonde's gaze sweeping over her body as an answer. She clenched her fists involuntarily, only to realize that she was still clutching on to the slender hand of the beast.

"It was not your fault."

"Who else's could it be?" The beast spat harshly, voice filled with self-hatred and shame.

"Mine."

The beast looked at her with incredulity, as though the brunette had just grown an additional head.

"No, you don't underst-"

"What don't I understand, Fleur?"

Fleur opened her slightly pointed mouth, but nothing came out.

"You don't know, do you?"

The older woman looked away.

"Look at me, Fleur." Her hands lightly traced the smooth hand of the blonde that was still in her possession. Soft fingers caressed the wisps of silky down that barely peppered the back of the bird-lady's hand.

The woman's breath hitched at the sound of her name rolling off the younger girl's tongue. No one had ever called her by her name so sweetly before; never had her name sounded so pleasant and perfect.

Blue eyes slowly travelled back to brown.

"I know it's me, Fleur. You are not a bad person, I know. Dobby told me that this has never happened before. I'm sorry."

Fleur's eyes widened.

"Yes, I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Fleur. I'm sorry for being so difficult when you are trying so hard to make me feel comfortable. I know what I said out there caused it. I'm sorry."

Hermione took a deep breath to steady herself and her shaking voice.

"But it is difficult to be nice and patient when you have been treating me like a piece of talking furniture. I resent you, yes, for uprooting me from my ordinary life and throwing me headfirst into this whole mess that I never asked for. I hate you for keeping me here. But above all, I hate you for not letting me in. Don't you dare look away from me."

Fleur, having got caught, met the brunette's eyes again.

"I know that you have been through a lot. It must not have been easy to live like this; to be cut off from civilization. I know that you want me around. That's the reason why you are trying so hard, right?"

Fleur was taken aback at the brunette's sharp observation skills, but made no move to reply. Deep down, she was afraid. Afraid because the brunette was charging unpredictably, breaking down her walls one by one, tearing them down simply using words. Words that could never sound the same coming from another person other than the girl lying before her.

"Let me in, Fleur. If you really want me around, let me in."

The blonde woman hesitated. She never knew that human relationships could be this complex. She had naively thought that having someone's company was enough. She never expected it to come with terms and conditions.

She nodded.

Brown eyes lit up softly as a smile glided across the brunette's face. Hermione gave the hand of the bird-woman an encouraging squeeze as she struggle to find her voice.

"Thank you-thank you for being so accepting of me when I have been treating you like mud. I'm trying to change, trust me when I say this. But…but I just have no idea what to do around you. I don't know how to act around you, I don't know what to say around you, I just…don't know. And it's getting on my nerves, not being in control."

Fleur could not look into Hermione's eyes any further, and dropped the gaze.

"You are so different. So very different. I have no idea how to handle you. You are the first living, breathing human I have ever spoken to."

Hermione stopped rubbing her thumb along the skin of the woman's hand. Her eyes glistened in the candlelight as she looked at the forlorn, vulnerable form of the beast.

"I know I should not have done this. I hated myself for doing this to you; keeping you here. I even thought of letting you go. But a part of me just could not do so. I…I don't know. You are confusing, yes, but it's like with you around, my life changes. Like there's finally a purpose to keep on living. I know I'm selfish, but I can't bear to release you so that you will leave me in the dark once again…"

She fell into silence. A moment passed between the two; Fleur with her head down, one hand lying on Hermione's stomach, Hermione with her eyes fixated on the lonely outline of the beast's form. It was a chest-constricting moment, as though there was not enough air in the room to breathe.

A warm tear slid down Hermione's cheek just as Fleur garnered the courage to look back up in her face. Her face fell upon seeing the younger woman's tears. She moved a slender finger to wipe the tears gently away from the face of the girl. Fleur could not bear to see the other woman's gentle face being marred by the brutal streaks of the tears.

"Don't cry, please. I'm sorry to have upset you. I didn't mean to hurt you, I promise. I just don't know how to react around you. But I have decided now. I'm not keeping you here anymore. I don't want to see you upset because of me. You are free to leave. "

Fleur hesitated slightly, before adding in a hush, pained whisper.

"…_if you want."_

Brown eyes widened at the words that just spilt from the blonde's mouth. A part of Hermione could not believe her ears; _the beast was letting her go._

But another part of her could not bear to leave the beast. Not after just discovering this soft, vulnerable side of the bird-woman. She could not stand the thought of leaving her in the dark, dank castle with only the elves for company. It was not as though the elves made good company either, seeing that they were bound by servitude.

But another part of her looked forward to going back to her home, to her books, to her family. To her noisy, gossipy, chattering, shallow sisters who always only cared about boys and clothes. To her father who always thought of recovering his riches and fame.

"But…do you…want me to leave?"

Fleur stayed silent for a while, her face covered by a cloak of shadows. Her shoulders tensed when the brunette spoke. Then, after what seemed like an hour, Fleur lifted her head slowly to gaze into brown eyes once again.

Blue eyes glistened in the candlelight.

"…no."


	10. Chapter 10

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_A.N. Hey there darlings! Contemplated for quite a bit on whether I should add more stuff to this chapter but in the end decided against it. Don't worry; the story will be moving faster from now on. _

_Let me know your thoughts :) I'll try to reply to questions and reviews as much as I can._

_

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**Chapter 10**

"_Close your eyes, please?"_

_Hermione laughed at Fleur's sudden request. _

"_But why?"_

"_There's something I would like to show you."_

_The brunette took in the eager look on the older woman's face and chuckled at the sight. Fleur wringed her hands in nervous anticipation, eager to see the reaction that was to come from the brunette. Inside, she was quite relief that Fleur had opened up much more to her after their little conversation. Dobby had whispered to her that no one has ever seen Fleur that happy before. It made Hermione feel happy knowing that she was able to bring some joy into the woman's life. _

"_All right."_

_Brown eyes fluttered shut. A small smile played at the brunette's lips as the bird-lady gently led her by the hand. She silently reveled in the feeling of Fleur's hands in hers. It was surprisingly warm and comforting; the soft down lining the back of her hands being more soothing than disturbing. _

_A hoarse grinding of heavy doors against stone floor could be heard. Hermione bit her lips in amusement at how secretive Fleur was behaving; not wanting to laugh out loud and spoil the surprise. _

"_Here we are," Fleur whispered. "You can open your eyes now."_

_Slowly and shakily, eyelids opened in anticipation. A soft gasp escaped the young woman as she took in the immensity of what was presented to her. _

_A majestic, elaborately furnished library stood in front of her. A library that was filled with all the books she could ever dream of having. The bird-lady smiled softly at her reaction._

"_For you." _

_

* * *

_

Hermione gathered her silken robes tighter around her as she trudged through the forest. A hand was wrapped gently but firmly around an aged stick of wood; her wand. The sun was gentle that afternoon; the forest quiet.

The young brunette was grateful when Fleur granted her request of going back to see her family, even going as far as to giving the brunette her wand back. Hermione knew that deep inside, the bird-lady was reluctant to do so. The beast had been impossibly nice to her; she even presented to the bookworm of a brunette her personal collection of books. It touched Hermione greatly, but at the same time, the gain reminded the young girl of what she had left behind and lost back at home.

The immense amount of trust Fleur had in her weighed down her shoulders. Fleur did not impose any terms or conditions upon her; she just agreed. Some part of Hermione was rather annoyed at how easily Fleur conceded to her request; it made her felt stupid for worrying over how to break the question for days. Also, Hermione could not help feeling suspicious at how easily the beast let her off. For someone who craved company as much as the beast, it should not be so easy for them to let go of said company when they just barely acquired it. The brunette shook her head slightly; letting the frown that had set in dissipate, choosing to focus on getting home to her family.

Brown leaves crunched and cackled merrily, _too merrily, _under her shoes. Hermione was not very eager to get back home, though she did miss her family. A nagging feeling bugged the young girl. An unknown bird hidden from sight let out a harsh crow, causing her to jump slightly in shock.

Finally, Hermione hit a familiar path. Her feet seemed to take over on their own, picking up speed on the path in which they have been so accustomed to. And in the distant, the forlorn and lonely hut stood, solely braving the elements.

Hermione barely noted her increased breathing and heartbeat. She knew that something was amiss.

The door lay broken, lying pathetically on the dirt floor. It appeared that someone had kicked it down forcefully. The young girl felt her chest constrict painfully, making it difficult for her to breathe. Her wand hand involuntarily wrapped itself tighter around the thin and battered shaft of wood for comfort. Small red sparks flew from the tip as the wand pronounced its readiness for anything that stood ahead in its path.

"Father?"

A warm gust of air blew in, choosing the wrong moment to play. The limp curtains shivered like old women.

"Sisters?"

An unearthly silence was all the reply that the young woman received.

Hermione tensed up. All shreds of logic were thrown out of the window as emotions took over. The brunette rushed over to her father's bedroom, almost tripping over an overturned stool in the process. The room was in a mess, sporting no father.

Her breathing was heavy by then. A quick look into her sisters' bedrooms told her that there was no one at home. And the state in which the entire household was in informed her gravely of something ominous and horrible. Something that Hermione did not want to know; but could not turn away from.

The girl ran all the way to the village, hoping to find answers. Her breathes came and went in abrupt gasps; her heart pounded painfully in her chest, swollen with fear.

Her legs pumped furiously and carried her to the local cheap pub, Draco's favorite hangout. In fact, most village men drop by the place whenever they were free to unwind and relax. It did help that alcohol was grossly cheap there, contributing to the number of alcoholics in town. Of course, it was only after he lost his fortune did he started visiting the place instead of the ridiculously posh one in the neighboring village down the road, owned by the village chief himself (Ronald's father). He stopped complaining and lamenting the 'good ol' days' after a while, and soon became convinced that the reason why he chose the cheaper alternative was that it was closer to home.

"Father!"

All heads turned towards the swinging doors when Hermione burst through, a few men sloshing their beer messily down their fronts at the sudden motion. The bartender glanced at the flustered girl for two seconds before returning to his mundane chore of cleaning the beer cups with a filthy rag.

Drunken chatter and conversations began again from where they left off before the brunette interrupted their flow. Hermione stood lost at the doorway. Her eyes scanned through the dimly-lit room once…twice…thrice-

-to confirm that Draco was not there at all.

"Sir, sir, please, have you seen my father?"

The bartender paused in his cleaning and pursed his lips. Green eyes narrowed in uncertainty behind a pair of old, rimmed spectacles.

"And who may this be?"

"Hermione, Hermione Malfoy."

Green eyes widened in realization, then narrowed under a frown.

"Aren't you captured by some great, big bird or something? That's what ol' Malfoy was yakking about yesterday."

"My father was here?"

Large wrinkled hands resumed their cleaning of beer mugs, as though filth was a newly-invented cleaning agent.

"Ah yes; yesterday. He was blabbing on about how you got captured by a 'huge, beastly creature' a couple days back and was tryin' ta get some men to go with him ta rescue you."

"So he's heading to the beast's castle now?"

Hermione felt some of the fear evaporate away. If that was the case, Draco should be safe for the time being. She trusted that Fleur would never hurt her father. Perhaps she would Stun him at most, but she definitely would not do anything to hurt him.

"Nuh, a couple of men dragged him away because he was being a joke and a ravin' loony."

"What?"

"You heard me; some men brought him away."

"Who?"

"The village chief's son and a messy-haired bloke who's a bit on the short side. They were kinda drunk that day and had a bunch of huge blokes with them. I don't know what they did to him-"

Hermione ran off before the men could finish his sentence. Swinging doors creaked their agony and disapproval at the brunette's harsh treatment towards them. The bartender merely shrugged to himself, eyes quivering from tiredness, and resumed his mundane, monotonous chore.

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_A.N. Sorry to end off here and leave you guys hanging, but what's coming up next is going to be pretty intense and I want to do it justice by giving it a chapter of its own. _


	11. Chapter 11

_A.N. Here! I know I took longer than expected, having promised that it'll be up earlier. My apologies for that._

_Hopefully, this chapter shines more light on the supporting characters of the story. :) Let me know what you think._

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**Chapter 11**

_Birds screeched in annoyance as a disheveled man stumbled through the harsh vegetation ruthlessly, arms flailing and floundering without any semblance of control. His steps were heavy and frantic, but clearly without certainty and destination in mind. His breathes came heavily in sharp gasps; his chest heaving from his own personal war with nature. The occasional chokes and dry sobs did not help at all, but constricted his chest tighter and stealing his much-needed breathes even more._

_Draco struck his leg on a tough root and took a tumble head-first into the leaf litter. Perspiration and tears mingled and joined forces with grime, leaving strong streaks of war-paint decorating his face. The man fought his way back, tired but determined to return to town for help. _

_His youngest child had stubbornly decided to leave him the previous morning. It was a noble act, by no doubt, but also a rash one. Of course, it was not as if there were alternative options worth considering. Draco felt a total sense of loss after Hermione left, alongside pain and despair. It hurt him to see his daughter being forced to grow up so quickly. He knew that he had not been a great father figure. He knew that, and he was deeply regretful about that. He never understood the skills of child-rearing; it was blatantly apparent in how his two other daughters turned out. But thankfully, his youngest turned out fine, a small compensation in place of her two older sisters. _

_And he has lost her. His only remaining source of pride. And it was all because of his stupidity and cowardice._

_Of course, it was a realization that came too late; as with most realizations. Pansy and Lavender were out frolicking about since early morning and thus blissfully oblivious to their youngest sister's fate. Draco shut himself up in the room after Hermione left, naively hoping that sleep would numb the pain and sorrow that plagued him. It was a déjà vu moment. Draco was, once again, reminded of his wife. His wife, who had nobly thrown herself into danger in a bid to save the villagers and townspeople. His wife, who was so vastly different from him; she was the heroin, and he, the coward. _

_Of course, sleep never came to grant him the reverie that he so desired. Draco tossed and turned, but nothing worked. He paced the whole house minus the bedrooms. Many a times, he paused at the door to his youngest daughter's bedroom. _

_It seemed as though his youngest daughter's departure had changed the entire mood and meaning of the house to him. He loved his daughters dearly; most of all Hermione. But of course, Draco was a man of few words, and never knew exactly how to voice his emotions. But the inability to articulate his feelings did not mean that he was void of them. He tried to express them through actions; through the numerous expensive gifts that Pansy and Lavender always welcomed. But for Hermione who never desired anything pricy like her sisters, he had found it difficult to show his love. And now, regret gripped him in a winning hold. _

_Pansy and Lavender did not return from town. It was assumed that the two of them managed to get some wealthy gentleman to treat them for dinner in return for their company, which was not unusual. Draco was so broken about the loss of his daughter that he has lost all appetite and taste for food. In frustration and anger, he went on a rampage in his own room like a ruthless hurricane. The man then collapsed in a corner, disheveled, before whimpering himself into an uneasy sleep._

_The next morning, Draco had woken up with pain in his joints which could not be compared to the pain in his heart. He scavenged the house for food and made up his mind. He was going to get his child back. He was going to convince Hermione to escape and come back with him. He was not going to give a damn about the beast's threats._

_Draco had waited a whole day at the gate to the vile castle holding his daughter captive, but his daughter did not appear. The gate remained unyielding to his attempts to enter; and finally, Draco gave up, choosing to return to his town to seek help._

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_

Draco stumbled into the posh bar that he used to frequent in the days of his wealth. _His wealth, _the man spat mentally and wearily. If not for all that stupid gold and silver, everything would not have happened; he would still have Hermione. At the thought of his lost daughter again, he collapsed onto the hearth.

A couple of men stumbled in after him, laughing and grunting, some waving bottles of cheap beer in their large, coarse hands. Then, a lanky red-head entered; his face going the same shade of crimson as his fiery hair. The man sunk into a seat and slumped in it with the demeanor of a man with authority.

"C'mere and get me some proper beer! This shit they call beer at their town is beyond foul!"

Ronald flung the bottle he was holding at the grimy shape that was Draco curled on the floor. The figure barely budged. His companions grunted and snorted in obnoxious laughter and followed suit; drenching the pathetic figure in cheap beer.

Draco closed his eyes against the attack of the alcohol. His body shivered involuntarily. He should have known better than to trust them, especially after how they have laughed and jeered cruelly at his sob-story. He had tried to rescue his daughter himself; but the harsh trip Draco had thought that they were really sincere in helping out when they volunteered their services. He brought them to his home when they wanted to see for themselves that Hermione was really missing. Who knew that they would trash up his home and make a complete fool of him in their drunken stupor? Then, as though the humiliation he had faced was not enough, they had to drag him back along the streets, laughing at his 'madness' along the way, to the posh pub so that they could decide on how to further damage his already soiled reputation.

"Eh, where is my beer?" Ronald slurred and shook his fist in the air in impatience. The messy-haired man next to him laughed at his friend's drunken self and grabbed the bartender.

"Eh man, get my mate here his drink or his father will kick your ass outta here personally."

"Ye-yes sir."

Ronald snatched the beer out of the bartender's hand when he shakily held it out to him and guzzled it down without hesitation. Then, throwing a side glance at his companions, he ordered more beer for all of them.

"Now, what should we do with you; you batty old man?"

Draco bit down on his tongue, choosing not to reply.

"Why, not so man now that we know that you are a loony?" Ronald gave him a nudge with the heel of his shoe. The rest of the men guffawed, shaking the whole pub with their loud laughter.

"You know your daughter denied me?" The red-head glowered at the battered man slumped on the floor. "Me; the village chief's son! She should be bloody honored that I showed interest in her! That stupid little ragdoll."

Rage rushed through the disheveled man lying on the floor upon the rude mention of his daughter. Draco stumbled onto his feet and grabbed the red-head's shirt, an arm raised threateningly.

"Say one more word and I will-"

"You will what? Hit me? Come on, old man; you should know your own strength." Ron beckoned with a jerk of his head towards his companions, all of whom were burly with sizable muscles and glares. "It ain't gonna be a surprise if she turns out nutty like you. Maybe she already is; probably the reason why she failed to see her good fortune in me showing interest in her. The pathetic excuse of a wo-"

Draco's face contorted in anger and he brought his hand heavily down upon the offending man's face, eliciting a howl of rage from him. Immediately, two burly men pounced towards the pair and pulled a struggling Draco away from Ron at Harry's orders. Ronald spat angrily at the floor, one hand cupping his face.

"You bastard! You dare lay a hand on me, you bloody nutcase?"

"Call me anything you want, just leave my daughter out!"

The red-head drew back his lips in a smirk and stood up, a hand still clenched tightly on a bottle. He leaned in close to the struggling Draco who was held back by the two men. The stale, foul stench of alcohol lingered in his breathes, and Draco twisted his head in a fruitless attempt to ignore the insolent young brute, disgusted in being in such close proximity with the undesirable man who had rudely intruded his personal space. The intruder's mouth stretched into a sneer that distorted his features for the worse; a sneer that he would not be capable of if he was sober.

"Now I see the reason why your _precious _daughter denied me. She's probably _as loony as you, _which is why she chose to run off with some big gigantic monstrous bird instead. Right, Harry?"

The black haired man addressed laughed out in a drunken stupor, his face flushed from the effects of the alcohol. His best friend threw him a satisfied smirk at his reaction. Ronald turned back to the helpless man held captive, drawing strength and bravado from the support of his pal, only to find himself being greeted in the face by a mouthful of spit mustered up by a furious Draco Malfoy.

"You bloody bastard!" Ronald's face grew even redder, if that was possible. He raised a fist, ready to bring it hard into Draco's smirking face.

"Don't you dare! Unhand my father this instance!"

All heads turned towards the door when a loud crash signaled the arrival of Hermione. The brunette's face was flushed from running, her hair a disarrayed mess. The silken travelling cloak wrapped around her shoulders was coated with a fine layer of dust and dirt. Her wand hand was raised threateningly, the battered and imposing wand pointing sharply at the shock face of Ronald Weasley.

A soft _swish _broke the silence as Harry recovered from the shock, whipping out his wand to mirror the woman's stance. The man stepped forth next to his friend, poised to jump in to his defense.

"Ah, look who's here." Ronald whipped on a broad grin, emboldened by the alcohol. With opened arms, the man walked towards the fuming woman in welcome.

A high-pitched scream was heard, leaving the men in the pub wide-eyed and open-mouthed. Hermione had directed a well-placed kick at the red-head's sensitive region. The man keeled over and whimpered, curling up in pain.

"Drop the pretense, idiot."

Harry regained his bearings and stepped forth with tight lips, wand held defensively. Hermione barely gave him a second glance and waved her wand, Disarming the man with a silent charm.

Silence ensued as the rest looked on helplessly, unwilling to step up to the plate fists against wand. Not many practiced the magical arts in the town and village, believing them to be nonsense. Not many were willing to devote time and energy into honing their skills in that aspect, partially also because of the grueling practice and training needed. It was only then did the men in the pub witness the power of the magical arts; it was only then did they come to regret their lack of devotion to said arts.

Hermione went to help Draco up, ignoring the gaping stares of the men in the pub.

Ronald watched in fury with gritted teeth as the brunette girl he has been vying for ignored him totally, instead giving all her attention to the ragged old man getting to his feet unsteadily. His loyal companion watched on silently, feeling totally lost without his wand.

"Now, Hermione; look here," Ronald jumped up, fueled with rage. He attempted to wrench Draco away from his daughter, eliciting a sharp yelp from the older man at his rough treatment. A loud smack followed.

"Watch where you put those paws Weasley!" Hermione had punched the red-head instinctively, angered at the fact that the man insolently manhandled her father.

Ronald's yell of pain shook his companions out of their trance and they immediately closed in with fists raised threateningly. The stubborn girl did not back down, but brandished her wand at them like a whip, causing them to draw back in fear like the cowards they were.

"You are mental, Hermione! Like father, like daughter!" The pathetic son of the village chief clutched his broken nose, attempting to stop the flowing blood to no avail. "You useless idiots, stop them!"

"Don't. Call. Us. Mad. You are the insane one, you pathetic fool." This time round, her wand tip was merely an inch away from the beaten man's face. Ron glared helplessly at the shaft of wood between his eyes; body leaned back as far as he could. Fear oozed palpably from his defeated figure.

Bending down, Hermione whispered coolly into his ear.

"_If you are smart, Ronald Weasley, you wouldn't test my patience. My family never lies. And the only mental one in the pub is you."_

The man didn't flinch, nor did he attempt to retaliate. He merely remained on his ground, too afraid to move for fear of the young woman's magical prowess. He knew clearly that they were overpowered; their brawn could never win over Hermione's brains. And there was still a shred of gentlemanliness within him to know not to hit a woman; Ronald Weasley knew that he would never live it down if he, the village chief's son, attacked a woman.

Hermione whipped her hair back over her shoulders and took one of Draco's arms, putting it around her to use her weight as his support. Before she left the pub, she turned back with a final, piercing glare.

A final clatter was heard when the two figures were out of sight.

There, rolling to a stop on the dusty wooden floor of the pub, was Harry's wand.


	12. Chapter 12

_A.N. I'm a long, long way from home. Another 4 months and a bit to go. Not surprisingly, reading and writing seem to be highly effective in helping me cope. Baby steps to returning. Hopefully I will not let you guys down. _

**BB12**

"_Fleur…"_

_The bird-lady looked up from the old book which she was hunched over with a questioning look on her face. Hermione hesitated and took an audible breathe before drawing up a handsome chair next to the beast. _

"_There's something I would like to request from you."_

_Curiosity swirled in the clear liquid blue eyes of the beast. The nervous young brunette cleared her throat and shifted in her seat._

_When it appeared that Hermione was unable to voice out her request anytime soon, Fleur kindly spoke up._

"_It's all right. You are free to ask for anything. As long as it is within my abilities, I will grant your wishes."_

"_I…" A gulp. "I would like to visit…my family."_

* * *

"_My child, what did you say again?"_

"_I said, this is only a visit. I am going to head back to the castle tomorrow morning, Father."_

_Grey eyes widened in shock. The man's lower jaw fell to earth while he struggled to find words to say to the determined young woman who stood before him._

"_Yo-you want to go back, my dear child?"_

_A nod of affirmation sent Draco's world crashing around him._

_The look of disbelief on her father's face was all the answer Hermione needed. She knew, and had feared, that he would react this way. And he did. _

"_My child, I will not let you return."_

_The eyes of the determined young woman grew hard and flashed dangerously. _

"_That creature is dangerous! It has brainwashed you!"_

"_Fleur is not dangerous!"_

_The look of disbelief grew even more prominent, now mixed with a tinge of horrified shock._

"_Hermione!"_

"_I am going back, Father. And you can't stop me. All I can ask you to do is to try and understand; please. You have had the wrong impression of her all long, Father."_

* * *

The scene vanished and the colors melded back into that of brown and black with a wave of a wand. Fleur stood in front of the now plain and grimy stone wall, her breathes audibly strong and deep. There was a strange yet vaguely familiar thumping in her chest. A clawed hand moved up to rest above her left breast, the soft fabric of the robe wrinkling slightly at the contact.

Fleur moved towards the red armchair that stood lonely in the flickering light of the room and nestled herself into it. Hermione should be back soon, if what she said to her father was true. However, Fleur did not feel happy at that thought. Perhaps she did; her heart seemed to beat with more force, more energy, and more purpose knowing that Hermione chose her. But seeing Draco's broken expression, his desperation; Fleur felt like a monster for causing their family to break. Correction; Fleur knew that she was a monster.

But she could not help being selfish.

"_Love is a selfish emotion, my dear. You will understand when you grow older."_

However much Fleur trusted in her mother, she could not bring herself to agree with her. Not until all this maniac happenings. Perhaps her mother was right; perhaps love _is _a selfish emotion. Fleur liked Hermione; she enjoyed her company. The girl was probably the only one who treated her like an ordinary person ever since _the curse. _Why would it be wrong to want to keep this girl next to her for the rest of her life? Why would it be wrong when the whole world has been cruel to her for her whole life, for mistakes that she didn't make? Would keeping this girl away from her family be any more selfish and cruel than what the world did to her?

Fleur let her eyes fall onto a silver-feathered hand, upon which a silver ring sits on the littlest finger. The only memento left by the woman who brought her to this _cruel_ world. She thought of her parents' relationship. She thought of her father's obsessive love for her mother. She thought of his pride, his ego, his selfishness. His _love_ for her mother. He wanted her so much for himself that he kept her locked away from the rest of the world.

"Was this why you left him, _Maman?"_

The dying flames of the candle in the corner glimmered and swam in the icy blue waters of the lonely woman's eyes.

"_Don't make the same mistake as your father, ma fleur."_


	13. Chapter 13

_A.N. It's soon to be Christmas, and I miss family and friends. This chapter is rather deep; it doesn't let on much but it will become appreciated in subsequent chapters._

**Chapter 13**

_It was curious, but the gloomy castle that imprisoned her for the entirety of her life contained so many rooms that even Fleur herself had never once set foot in while her father was still around. He was a tyrant and Fleur hated him. He had not once looked at her with love and adoration after the curse was laid down on her; never mind the fact that he was the one who brought the curse down on her in the first place._

_Soft rustling filled the cold hollowness of the castle's grimy passageways as the beast trailed down every single one of them. The heavy wooden doors opened to reveal nothing particularly different though, just years of grim and dust. From what the elves had said, they were forbidden to go into most of the rooms as well, save for the rooms that were habituated and used._

_After a disappointing tour of ten rooms which revealed nothing of interest, the bird-lady opened the last door in the corridor to reveal a short stretch of corridor. A rather unusual discovery; Fleur never remembered having a corridor disguised as a room in the old castle growing up. Then again, her father restricted her movement so much that it was not surprising that she had no inkling of it. The newly-revealed corridor was so differently furnished that it revived her spirit to carry on with her exploration. With recharged energy and curiosity, the woman set forth once again on her little quest. _

* * *

"Hey," a tentative voice sounded from the doorway.

"You are back." It was not a question; it was a statement. It was a statement betraying no emotion, save for the downcast look in the eyes of the deliverer. The eyes which were deliberately turned away from the door, turned away from the young lady which stood, unsure.

"The elves told me that you have been in here all day. Is there something wrong?"

"No; please do come in."

Young Hermione entered the room, her shoes gently scuffing against the stone floor as she did. The beast continued to let her gaze sweep gently over the single rose that floated lonely in the bell jar. Blue eyes narrowed as the bird-lady focused her mind on her intention.

"I would like to…talk to you. If you permit."

"Uh…oh."

The sudden polite request caught the guest off-guard. _Guest, or prisoner? _The beast was no longer clear. The lines have became so blurred and frazzled over the period that the beast felt that she has already relinquished any form of control she had to the almighty Fate. And she was no longer sure whether she should take hold of the reins again. She was no longer sure whether she was able to; to bring herself to take control.

"Please?"

The brunette was unsure of the beast's intentions and although she did trust that Fleur would never do anything to hurt her, she was still slightly nervous and apprehensive about the mysterious topic that beast wanted to talk to her about. After all, they never had a proper conversation before.

"Um…sure, it will be my pleasure."

"Thank you so much. Take a seat please."

Hermione settled herself into the red armchair indicated by her companion. Her captor or her _host? _A baffling puzzle. She was taken prisoner, but no captors would do half the things that Fleur did for her. Invite her to dine together as equals, gave her a _library, _let her out to visit her family with _no strings attached. _It was a complicated relationship.

Fleur swept her hand silently over the exterior of the bell jar, yet never letting her hand close enough to touch the cool glass. She took a few deep breathes that were softly audible to her observant brunette guest. Said brunette guest remained silent though; the atmosphere was more than enough hint to her that the topic of the conversation would be anything but light-hearted.

"I have decided."

The words were spoken so softly that it barely rasped out of the blonde's mouth, which barely moved. Hermione kept her silence, knowing that it wasn't the moment for her to say anything.

"I have decided to not keep you here any longer. You are…free to go." She withdrew her hand to her chest suddenly as though she was burned.

"What?"

The blonde bird-lady ignored the brunette's shock exclamation. A sudden pain had shot through her chest when she said those words. It was as though a hot knife just ran through her, as she voluntarily cut herself away from the brunette. Out of the brunette's life.

The rational part of Hermione told her that she should be happy, happy that she could return back to her family, her father, her sisters. What Hermione did not understand was why she felt a sense of loss upon registering the bird-lady's words. She could not understand the sudden change of mind. She could not understand why Fleur looked so lonely and defeated in that instance. And she could not understand her own raging emotions that were trashed and crashed around within her like a flash flood.

"Why?"

"Don't question my decision, witch. Get out of my castle!"

It was not the harsh tone of the woman's voice, nor the burst of fire that broke free of the woman's mouth when she spoke. It was the smouldering look in her burning red eyes that made Hermione took her leave. The look of anger, rage and a whole other mesh of incomprehensible emotions.

The figure remaining in the room lost all fight and slumped down to the cold comfort of the stone floor in defeat after the heavy door slammed shut. On the other side of the door, a confused and hurt woman ran down the dark and dank corridor.

Slowly, the lonely red rose in the bell jar droop its head and wept.

And a petal the shape of a droplet settled silently at the bottom.


	14. Chapter 14

_A.N: University life is amazing. Finally, I am away from the-place-which-stifles-my-creativity._

Hermione was furious. Furious with the temperamental beast; furious with herself. She could not understand Fleur's sudden change, neither could she recall what cardinal sin she had done to deserve that.

She came back; did she not? As she had promised! Nothing made sense to her then. After all she had done to get Fleur out of her shell…

Hermione shook her head. Maybe it was for the better; she could now finally return to the village, back to her beloved father, back to her sisters. Draco would definitely be beyond joy when he see her, she thought. And it was then, as the young, headstrong woman was trudging through the vegetation towards the dirt footpath leading out of the woods, she made the decision to wash her hands of the matter. She would never look back ever again.

* * *

_A flash of blue. The duke screamed in rage, slicing his hand through the air, eyes flashing darkly. A black blast of air rushed at the unexpecting witch who let out a cry when she was thrown back forcefully by the spell._

"_Stupid witch; what makes you think you can take me when countless have failed? Be prepared to meet your doom!"_

_The brunette was slowing stirring, knocked daze from the impact. The figure of the duke was slowly drifting into focus when a loud crack sounded. A force swept through the room, and a woman suddenly materialised in front of the brunette. Her robes fluttered to a still and settled around her. With her long, silvery hair, she looked to be an angel from the heavens._

_The duke seemed equally astonished and angered to see her. "Apolline? You are not supposed to be here!"_

"_Well, I am, so you can forget about supposing."_

"_But h-how? There is no way you could have broken past my wards-"_

"_-You forgot that Veela blood runs in my veins. For years I have tried, and I have finally succeeded. I want my daughter back."_

"_You are not getting her back."_

_Blue eyes narrowed threateningly. "You know I would be back for her. I will not allow you to doom her."_

"_You left. You decided that you wanted to leave when I loved you. How could you do this to me, Apolline? I loved you!"_

_Flashing blue eyes stared into dark black orbs._

"_You don't know what love is, Gellert. You never did. You never loved me, nor have you ever loved our daughter. My family and I have been sadly blinded by you. I have enough of all that you did. Think of the lives of those you have killed. Think of the number of families you have destroyed. You just wanted our daughter to be your monster. I was too blind to notice it then, young and naïve I was. I was too blind to see that leaving her in your hands would be more detrimental than good. But now I see."_

_She helped the fallen woman into an upright position, arms wrapped protectively around the warm shoulders. A roar of rage issued from the beastly man as he realise what he was about to lose._

"_Papa?"_

_A young girl of five peeped into the room. Upon seeing her mother with an unconscious woman on the ground, she frowned and trotted towards the pair, a rose in her hand. "Papa, who are they?"_

"_No Fleur! Don't come over!"_

_The young child saw the frightened look in the eyes of the woman and her heart raced faster. "Papa? Who is she?"_

_The duke let out a maniacal laughter._

"_Yes, yes; you care for your child, you monster? You dumped her. And tell you what, I do not care now. Yes, I admit. I was just using you and your family. And you were all foolish enough to believe me."_

"_Fleur; run!"_

"_Don't you dare hurt the child, you beast!" The brunette's eyes flashed in anger as she tried to stand, her shaking hand grasping her wand so tightly that red sparks sputtered out from the tip._

_The duke laughed. "You call me a beast, woman? Do you know the creature next to you and this spawn of hers? I will show you who's the real beast!"_

"_NO!" A scream broke the silence that followed. The brunette grabbed the arm of the hysterical lady by her side as she tried to throw herself towards her husband. His wand shook as he held it towards the little girl, who stood dumbfounded._

"_You forced me to do this, Apolline."_

_Her eyes were wild, her features wild._

"_You never loved me, did you?"_

_Silence._

"_I should have killed you the instance she was born."_

_There was no time for her to respond. He caught her off-guard with a blast straight to the chest, throwing her against the wall. Her head hit the wall with a sickening crack and she slid down, lifeless. The brunette, thrown back by the force as well, quickly got back to her feet. Just as the wand trained upon her, she grabbed the wrist of the mysterious fallen woman, and in a blink, the pair vanished, amidst the angry howls and the sobbing of a child._

* * *

"What are you thinking of, my love?"

The rich chestnut locks of the middle-aged woman fell around the shoulders of the seated woman, enveloping said woman with the soft woody musk just like how the warm arms of her partner enveloped her shoulders.

"My child."

A flash of pain and regret cracked through the blue ice of the blonde's eyes, bringing out the liquid blue depths. The woman's face was lightly lined with age, but she still possessed the power of attraction in her pores, her blood. A blessing. A curse.

"I am sorry." Her brunette partner whispered

"It was never your fault. If any, it was mine."

"No, you were injured, my darling."

"You came to save the people from him. You saved me from him. I can't even save my own child."

"You came to save me. You could if he didn't hurt you so badly. You almost died."

"I'd rather die than leave my poor child in his hands! I should have taken her when I first left."

Her partner gasped. She moved round the chair and knelt in front of the anguished blonde. Her tender hands held the woman's cheeks with love.

"Don't say that, my dear. You hurt me when you say that."

Their eyes met. A choke. The blonde gave in to tears.

"I am being selfish. You gave up the chance to be with your family, your husband, your children for the sake of the people. And for me. And here I am, absorbed in my own misery."

A solitary tear tracked a lonesome path down the contours of the brunette's face.

"I have you now. And you still have me, darling."

A whisper, a promise.

* * *

A whisper. A silhouette. A rose.

"I should never have let you go."


	15. Chapter 15

_A.N. Short one, but a small step forward is still a step forward. ;) Merry Christmas, darlings! _

* * *

Ever since Hermione return's disheveled return from the forest, everything seemed to be steadily returning to how they were like before.

Draco had let out a terribly loud cry filled with much gratefulness and joy and had rushed to embrace her with tearful sobs when he saw her standing at the family's front door. Hermione had patted his back reassuringly as he cried and sobbed into her tattered travelling cloak. Her sisters had displayed a less emotional welcome, though deep inside in their disbelief on her return mingled relief of the fact that they did not have to do the household chores any longer. Her return had also meant a cheerier father for them instead of a drunkard who brings the stench of stale liquor and vomit into the house in the dead hours of the morning. Ronald and Harry took her return with a pinch of salt; the two bumbling men had wanted to mock her father for his lunatic claims of her kidnap, yet both were also aware and wary of the brunette's frightening skills in the magicks.

So it all seemed to be a potential happily-ever-after for everyone and the tale could very well have just ended here. But no, our protagonists were far from their happy ending, and there were many unanswered questions that, if they were to be left unanswered, were sure to return to haunt the little village just as how the Malfoy family managed to find themselves caught up in the matters of the past.

* * *

"HER-MIO-NEEEEEEE! Where's the damn girl when you need her?"

Hermione was on her hands and knees, scrubbing hard at a stubborn stain in the wooden floor when she was alarmed by Pansy's screech. Hands slipping forward, she found herself with her face flat against the grimy floor and cursed under her breathe.

"Hermione! Where are you! This is an emergency!"

"Coming, Big Sister."

Hastily, the brunette made her way towards the rooms.

"There you are! What took you so long?" Pansy was seated at her cracked vanity in a lush green gown, one of her best dresses from better times.

"Sorry, I was scrubbing the floor and couldn't hear you well over the brush."

"Well, that's your problem not mine. The day after tomorrow is the Christmas Ball in the town hall and everybody's going to be there. The mayor is going to make a major announcement...and I won't be surprise if it is about that gorgeous Ronald's engagement. I have heard he will be picking a wife at the Ball, and I've got to look my best because we all know that he will pick me." Pansy smirked and flicked her long dark tresses. "Since old father is too worthless and cannot get us new dresses, this would have to do. I need you to make alterations to it for it is not fitting well."

Hermione nodded mutely, choosing to bite back a remark on her sister's rudeness to their father. There was never any point in bickering with Pansy. "Yes Big Sister. Let me just fetch the pins from my room."

"Make sure you get cleaned up as well; we don't want your grubby hands messing up the only fine dress I have." Pansy shouted after her.

Hermione had barely stepped out from her room when she knocked into Lavender, dropping the box of pins onto the dusty floor. Stooping to retrieve it, she muttered an apology to her sister.

"It's all right, Hermione. Look, can I ask you for a favour?"

Glancing up, Hermione blinked twice at her. Lavender was wringing her hands nervously. Well, she was always the nicer of her two older sisters.

"Of course you can, dear sister."

Brown eyes shone hopefully as Lavender clasped her younger sister's hands gratefully. "Thank you! It's about-"

"-the Christmas Ball?"

"Yes! Well, you see, I've heard some rumours that the...the..."

"The mayor's son is picking a wife and you want me to help you with your outfit?"

Lavender's eyes widened. "Oh my, yes! You are so smart!"

"Actually Pansy told me. She wanted me to help her alter her dress."

"Oh..." Lavender looked disappointed. "Would you be able to help me once you are done with Elder Sister's dress? Please?"

"Don't worry yourself dear sister; I'll help you out when I am finished with Big Sister's dress."

With a squeal, Lavender threw her arms around the alarmed younger girl.

"Thank you!"

Shaking her head as her sister pranced off into her room, Hermione mumbled, "all these for an air-headed boy".

* * *

"Look Ronald, mate; if you want to rule this town after your father kicks the bucket, you've got to get rid of all this threats man. You want to make it big, don't you? That dumb witch is a threat, you're not going to have any hopes finding foothold in the next town with her around."

The lanky man looked into his bespectacled friend's green eyes. Sure, Harry has always been the stockier and quieter of the two all through their growing up years, but he has also been the brain and brawn of the pair. While Ronald threw his father's name around, Harry threw his weight. And for the well-muscled man, he had always gotten his way with that.

"But we're not going to get to her, Harry! You've seen wh-what happened that day! She even got to you!"

"She's bound to have a weakness. We just got to hit her where it hurts."

"Hit her...where it hurts?"

"Yes!" Impatiently, Harry punched his puzzled friend in the sensitive region.

A loud yowl pierced the air. "Wh-why did you do that? I'm still recovering from that bitch's kick! F-fuck, you didn't have to do this; I'd have done anything y-you said!" Ron squeaked and whimpered in pain, his face a mask of agony.

"You see what I mean? Hit her where it hurts, and she'll give you all that you want. Then you'll be able to take down the governments of the surrounding towns and be the new duke. We'll use her to take down the beast. Think of all the treasures! Think of all that you stand to gain, mate!"

"But we can't kick her in the balls!"

"Damn you Ronald, what happened to all that bloody education your precious father invested in you? Think! What does she hold dear?"

"He-Her father?"

"Bingo, Ronald." Harry's eyes flashed and a smirk found its way onto his face. "Her father. The old nutcase, Draco Malfoy."


End file.
